Love, Death & Samcedes
by Pretty Little M
Summary: A collection of one-shots and two-shots for Sam & Mercedes. Smut AUs with various genres including romance, thriller, drama, and more.
1. True Blood

**I haven't watched Love, Death & Robots, but I thought the title would be nice.**

**The first 3 shots are taken from my other collection & the newest ones start at Ch 4. I had plenty of Samcedes ideas so I gave it a collection of its own. This is just a little note, so please continue.**

* * *

Vampire, Sam Evans, bit off more than he can chew after bringing home his next victim.

* * *

We hadn't been able to keep our lips off of each other since we left the party. We hungrily kissed and wildly tug on the other's clothes.

The girl pulled away from me. "What's your name again?" she asked between puffs of air.

I pull her closer and squeeze her firm butt. "Sam."

She nodded. "Mercedes," she reintroduced. Mercedes stumbled as I dragged her towards the couch. We continued to kiss, but she didn't flinched when I bit on her lip, causing it to leak little drops of blood.

She was so beautiful. It was a shame that I had to do what I did. One of us needed to live.

I bit and sucked at the vain between her shoulder and collarbone. I continued to drink as she began to squirm under me. I place a hand over her mouth, covering her screams as I demanded more.

There was something special about her; it was in her blood. It was rich. It seemed endless. I couldn't get enough. It filled me with euphoria.

I heard someone clear their throat. I hesitated to stop before looking up to see Artie watching me.

He shook his head. "Thanks for dinner," Artie sarcastically said, leaning against the arm of his wheelchair.

I looked down at the motionless body and back. "I really meant to share," I promised. "I'll go back out and-"

Kurt gasped, catching sight of the screen. "Sam, that's a new couch!" Kurt quickly waved off my apology.

"I got-"

"You got carried away," Kurt completed as he strutted toward me. He brushed Mercedes' hair out of her face to discover that she was dead and drained dry. "You always do this. There's more people in this house than just you. We all have our roles, and your not fulfilling yours," he scolded. He took a deep breath. "I'm going to find a way to feed everyone, and you're going to clean the couch."

"Okay," I mumbled.

"Sam," he warned, snatching his jacket off the rack. "Clean it."

"I will," I loudly argued over my shoulder. With Kurt gone, I turn back to Artie, who had perfected Kurt's judgmental stair. "I'LL DO IT!" I yelled louder than I expected.

There were five others living in the house. I was not the only screw up. I wasn't even the biggest.

Artie wheeled himself away without saying a word to me.

I was magically calmed when I licked my lips, tasting Mercedes' dried blood. I promised that I'd clean later. I was filled to the brim, but dragged myself to my room. I froze in my doorway.

"Your bedroom is supposed to reflect your personality, but this is sad." Mercedes ran her hand over my peeling wallpaper. She turned and appeared as if everything that happened minutes before didn't.

I watched her in shock. "You're supposed to be dead...What are you?"

No human could survive a draining. She had to be a creature.

She strolled toward me with a smile on her face. "That's a good question. Maybe you should have asked that before taking a bite. I'm a witch."

My mind filled with all the things Mercedes could do to me for revenge.

"I can't hurt you with my powers," she admitted, laying my fears to rest. She reached up and brushed a strand of my dark blond hair back. "I know I'll see you again."

"Why?"

"You're thirst will grow stronger everyday until I let you feed again."

I tried to hide my panic. I grabbed her hand as she tried to pass me. "Well, how do I find you?"

"You seem like a smart boy. You'll figure it out," Mercedes answered before leaving me.

* * *

I was eventually able to brush off most of Mercedes' comments. I didn't think of them, until it was time to feed again. No human compared to Mercedes; some even made me sick. I knew that I had to find her.

I drove around town with my mind focused on her. I didn't know where I was going, and everything outside of the car looked like a blur. Everything cleared when I stopped in front of a large white house. I was lead towards the door by an invisible force.

A blonde opened the door. She snuggled her cat closer as she greeted me.

"Um, does Mercedes live here?"

She shifted her attention to the cat. "Lord Tubbington, you're not supposed to lie," she whispered.

I looked at her with raised eyebrows. "_Great. I knocked on the door of a crazy person_," I thought in my head.

The blonde quickly looked up at me. "That's not nice."

Before either of us could say anything else, Mercedes step out of the shadows. "He's here for me, Brittany. You can go."

Brittany nodded. "No, you can't have a cigarette. You quit smoking weeks ago," she said, turning the corner.

"You took longer than I expected." Mercedes' red painted lips curled. "Upstairs." She closed the door and led me away. She stopped me outside a door. "I know that you want to drink, but I have a price."

I agreed to do whatever she wanted to get what I needed. My hunger was too strong.

As soon as we enter a room, she ordered me to take off my clothes. When I was done to my underwear, she buckled a pair of leather cuffs on my wrists. She was short, so she stretched to attach the cliff to the suspended bar above me. With one of my hands up, she relaxed.

I hooked my free arm around Mercedes' curvy body and pulled her close. I buried my face into her neck, fantasizing about her taste.

She untangled my arm from her, and slowly pushed me back. "I get what I want first." She fastened my other arm quicker than the first. Her heels clicked against the wood floor as she walks behind me.

I finally noticed the strange decorations of the deep red painted room. "_What did I get myself into?_" I questioned, studying the blindfolds, chains, and paddles.

Mercedes wasn't as innocent as I thought. She seemed like lollipops and rainbows, but behind closed doors, she's latex and whips.

"So, you like hurting people?" I asked when she was back in front of me.

She rested the narrow end of her crop in the palm of her hand. "I dominate anyone willing to submit. They had a choice. You have a choice. If you submit, you can have your reward. If you don't want to, I'll make sure you get out of here safely." She stood and waited for an answer, knowing I was too desperate to deny. "It's funny that you asked me about hurting people." She ran the end of the riding crop over my bare chest then giving it a little pat. She dragged the leather end against me as she traveled around. "Do you know how it feels to be bitten and drained."

A heavy swat on my butt caused me to lunge forward in pain.

"That doesn't even half compare," she claimed. "Say mercy, and I'll let you go."

I was full of pride and hunger. "Nuh-uh," I declined, fighting the pain.

I couldn't keep count of all the spanks she gave me while making her way around. Some hits were harder than others. I was a wheel of emotions. I felt a stinging pain then weird pleasure and back.

Mercedes stopped in front of me. She placed her hand on my red chest then joked, "I'd rather see you red than sparkling." She looked down and chuckled. She playfully tapped the crop against the lump that my briefs couldn't hide. "I'm not the only one that's excited, huh?"

I stared down at the girl, braced for another hit.

She reached above and unhooked my hands from the hoist. Mercedes left me to remove the cuffs myself. She removed her black blazer jacket and placed it to the side with her riding crop. "I always hold up my end," she promised, sliding onto the bed. She moved her long hair to one side and lied back.

I wanted her, period. I climbed over her and heatedly crashed our lips together. I could have set a record with how fast I stripped the rest of our clothes off. With one thrust, I was inside of her. I pinned her arms above her head as I thrust again and again. I began to tease her. I eased into and out of her painfully slow.

She squeezed my hand tighter. When I forcefully lunged back into her, she gasped and arched her body against mine. Mercedes moaned into my ear as I returned to my slow pace. She threw her head back, begging for the torture to end. She ground her hips down, trying to take more of my dick into her.

I pulled away to ensure that that would not happen. "Stop that," I ordered in a huff. I kissed down her neck and stopped at the same spot that I had bitten her weeks before. The joy I felt biting into her was indescribable. I released her hands to position her to make it easier for me to drink from her vein. I filled Mercedes at a steady speed to distract her from the ache.

She clawed at my back, pulled my hair, and whined in pleasure and pain.

I sunk my fangs in deeper, as I came. I felt like I had left my own body.

We rested in silence for minutes before putting our clothes back on.

I was only half dressed when I noticed Mercedes. Even with her back towards me, I could hear her mumbling random gibberish. I cautiously moved in front of her to find her brown eyes glazed over by a white fog. I rushed to get my shirt.

Before I could hurry out of the room, Mercedes turned to me. "Ready to go?" She lead me to the front door. Leaned against the open door, she admitted, "I've released you."

"What does that mean?" I ask.

She was silent for a moment. "It means you'll be just fine. Get home safely." She sent me off with a wave.

Everything did go back to normal. I was no longer getting sick by the humans that I fed on. The craving for Mercedes' blood faded, but not the memory of her. I never saw Mercedes or the house again.

* * *

**Thanks LadyBeth22 and mzdoodlesauntie26 for their prompts. I combined their suggestions to make this one shot.**

**Thank you for reading and please review.**


	2. Faking It

Sam convinces his coworker to pretend to be his girlfriend during the Christmas week with his parents.

* * *

I hung up the phone when I saw Sam peeking at me. "Your office is across the hall," I reminded, straightening the notes on my desk. I rolled my eyes when I noticed that he wasn't going away. "What?"

He slowly entered the room and stood in front of my desk. "I need a little help… a favor."

Of course! I always have to swoop in a save Sam. I finish my work during the day, but I stay late to finish his. The projects I complete for us have been so good that he's my competition for the promotion that I worked years for.

"No, it's not work," he corrected. "My parents sorta had this dream life for me: finish school, have a good job, and get married. You and I know that I've done two of the three, but they don't. I-"

"I'm not your therapist." I let him ramble a little longer; I was waiting for the point. "Say what you need and get out of my office."

"I talked to them yesterday, and they invited me to bring my girlfriend home for the holiday. I didn't have the heart to tell them the truth." He sat and began to rub his hands. "So I need- No, I'm asking you- I know this will sound a little crazy. I wanted to ask you to be my girlfriend for the holiday."

Crazy was an understatement.

"You're kinda my work wife. We've worked together for a long time. I thought it would be easier to pretend for a few days." He could tell that I wasn't moved. He stood. "I shouldn't have asked. I'll go."

I silently weighed my options, and crazily had more reasons to do it. "I'll do it, but I need you to do something for me. You have to let me have the promotion."

"Sure, it's yours. I'll step back."

"And you have to admit the you're unqualified."

"... I'll give you the promotion."

* * *

I flipped through my notes as we drove to Sam's family's home. I didn't want to be there, but I just focused on my reward.

"Meeting my family isn't a test. You don't have to study," he laughed.

"The notes are the outline of this stupid relationship we've built. I don't want to embarrass myself and let this plan fall apart just because we don't give the same answer."

"Don't stress, and it'll all come easily. We're here."

I sat in the car alone for a moment to figure out how I was going to stomach a house full of Sams for seven days. I turned to see a blonde woman rushing out of the house. "Oh, here it goes."

"Hey, Mom," Sam greeted as he slammed the trunk close. He dropped the bags to hug his mother.

I give a tight lip smile when I was out of the car. "Hi, Mrs. Evans. Thank you for inviting me to be apart of your holiday."

The woman pulled me into an embrace. "We're thrilled to have you. You're practically part of the family now. Come inside," she ordered, guiding me by my hand. "I'm glad you two came early. Gives us time to talk before your brother and sister arrive. Just put your things in your room, and I'll fix some hot cocoa. Would you like marshmallows?"

"No marshmallows. Um, we're sharing a room?" I asked.

"I'm not going to pretend like you two don't sleep in the same bed."

Sam and I dropped our bags in the bedroom without a word. We entered the living room and met Sam's father.

"It's nice to meet you, Mertle."

"Likewise, but my name is Mercedes," I corrected. I couldn't even get upset with him forgetting a name that he only heard two days prior.

Mrs. Evans handed out the mugs. "I could drive a bus between you two," She joked after noticing Sam and I sitting at different ends of the couch. When Sam scooted towards me, she took the spot he abandoned. "How long have you been dating?"

"A few months, but we've worked together for years," Sam answered.

I sat back and let Sam do all the talking. I was lost in my thoughts until I felt Sam wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I didn't fight it, deciding that it was a small gesture. Moments later, he randomly kissed my forehead- I wasn't going to let that go.

"I changed my mind," I piped up. "I do want marshmallows in my hot chocolate. Sam, can you please show me to the kitchen?" I followed Sam into another room. Knowing that we were out of earshot, I warned him, "Do that again, and I will throw this hot chocolate in your face."

"Come on, Mercedes, it was just a little peck."

After a minute of arguing, I give up. "We couldn't find the marshmallows. Just forget it," I announced, rejoining his parents.

* * *

I stood in the entrance of the living room, watching Sam's family decorating their tree. They seemed so happy. It was hard being the uptight one, but I couldn't fall into their picture perfect family… I refused to let myself do that.

"You're standing under the mistletoe," Sam stated, join me. He was pushing it.

"Well, you can kiss my ass," I hissed. "I'm getting ready for bed."

* * *

Christmas was four days away, but Mrs. Evans was cooking a big meal. She jumped between activities as she rambled to Stacy and me- mostly to me.

"I could always depend on Sam to do what's right. He worked very hard in college. I know it probably wasn't easy with his dyslexia, but he finished. He met you, and you two seem so happy."

"Yeah." I returned to my phone, responding to texts between the conversation with Ms. Evans.

Stacy stopped cutting the fruit and looked at us. "I think they're one of the most mismatched couples in history." She held her hands up after being scolded by her mother. "I didn't mean anything bad. You just seem really mature, and Sam's… odd. You have to find him a little annoying."

I thought he was annoying as hell, but I couldn't say that out loud. "Love is blind."

Her mother smiled at my answer. "Your brother can be serious. One day he might be serious enough to get married."

"Mom," Stacy groaned, knowing where the conversation was heading.

"I just want to see one of my kids get married."

I looked up with confusion. "Stevie's married."

"Yes, but he ran off to Vegas. I'll probably be six feet under before Stacy settles down," she doubted. "I've dreamt of planning their weddings since they were babies. I'm not trying to put any pressure on you and Sam, but you're special to him. I know these things."

Under her stare, I felt like I had to respond. "Um, when the time is right."

She nodded then passed me a plate with a dessert roll. She ordered me to try it.

Sam entered just as I put my phone down. "She can't have that," he declared. He moved the plate, earning confused looks. "She's allergic to nuts."

_He knew that?_ I thought.

Mrs. Evan froze after realizing the damage she could have caused. "I am so sorry."

"It's fine."

"Good thing I showed up when I did, right?" Sam took my hand and flashed his smile. "Mom, what's all this food for?"

"We have to feed our party guests," she chuckled.

"Party?"

"Anytime I can get all three of my kids together is a reason to celebrate. All the neighbors are coming."

* * *

I was shuffled through the party, meeting every family member and neighbor that attended.

Stacy stopped me. "Your phone's been ringing for the last thirty minutes." She eyed me as I took the phone from her. "It's Michael."

I was confused by her attitude, but chose to ignore it. I stood by the fireplace to have a moment alone. I was responding to my text messages when Sam came to me.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"I'm not the one for crowds, and I've had enough small talk to last me until Christmas of next year."

Sam stopped laughing when he noticed some of the kids oohing and pointing at us.

"You're under the mistletoe. You have to kiss," a child giggled.

_How many of these things did they hang?_

All the partiers gathering around. They wanted to see the fresh couple kiss. They began to chant, "Kiss her. Kiss her."

Sam tried to brush them off. "Please, everyone."

I took a deep breath. I just wanted everyone to shut up. I quickly pecked Sam's cheek, causing the crowd to aww in a mix of pleasure and disappointment. "Yeah," I sighed before walking away.

* * *

Sam entered the room to find me sitting in bed. "Mom wanted me to give you this before bed."

"Mmm, hot cocoa," I sarcastically said taking the mug. "Has your mother heard of a wonderful drink called coffee?"

"My mom doesn't think coffee's festive enough for the holidays." He sat at my feet, silent. "Stacy thought you were cheating on me with Michael. She got really mad. I lied and told her that he was your brother."

"Michael is my brother," I corrected.

"Really? You used to talk to him every week on the phone, so I assumed-"

"He's my brother. He only family I've got left," I said without thinking. I shrugged when Sam asked about my parents. "They die when I was young. I was too young to know anything, so I don't let it get me down." I rested the mug against my lip, but paused, remembering what he said. "Don't ever listen to me on the phone."

He smirked and apologized.

"Why didn't you say that you're dyslexic."

For years, I just thought Sam was a slacker by choice. I would have understood him more if I had know he had a disorder. I would admit that he did pretty good on the artistic portion of a project, but if I didn't do it for him, his writing did not match.

"I don't think I should yell it from the rooftops. Most of my job is reading. I can read… well, actually, but I get distracted," Sam confessed. "I know that I push a lot of my work on you, and you probably hate me for it, but you're the only one I trusted. You do everything great." He brought his drink up. "I always thought you were great," he lowly said into his cup. "I think I should get ready for bed."

I shook my head as Sam began to make his bed on the floor. I had made a big deal about not sharing the bed the first night, but I couldn't bring myself to make Sam do it again. "You can sleep in the bed."

After getting confirmation, he joined me. When he thought I was comfortable, he turned away from me. "Goodnight."

I continued to stir, hunting for the perfect position to settle into. I shyly snaked my arm around Sam's midsection, scooted closer, and almost immediately felt comfort.

"I like this, but-"

"Then be quiet," I interrupted.

"I-I was just going to ask to be the big spoon."

"No."

* * *

I woke up the next morning to my mind rushing. Throughout the day, I tried to focus, but continued to be distracted with thoughts. The same thoughts kept me up that night.

Sam patted my hand that rested over his abs. "Are you sleeping?" he asked, already sure of the answer. "You were quiet today. Are you okay?"

I stiffly shook my head, not lifting from the blonde's shoulder. "I've been thinking… a lot about you." I wanted to kick myself for saying it.

Sam sat up and turned the lamp on. "What about me?" he asked, receiving a head shake. "Come on."

"A lot of weird things." I sat on my knees to be eye to eye with Sam.

I was watching him with his family, and I thought of how great of an individual he was. He was kind and selflessness. He was an optimist. Then I started to think of things he did for me; things I ignored before. He repeatedly complimented my accomplishments. He was funny, even though he was distracting me from my work. I liked when he smiled at me. He made me feel important.

Sam smiled at me before giving me the one thing I've wanted for the past fifteen hours. He took me in his arms and kissed me with a passion and heat that could make the sun look like a single Christmas light. He nuzzled the neckline of my shirt to kiss the base of my neck.

My hands slid up and down his back before moving to pull Sam's shirt over his head. They slide over his firm chest, down his abs, to his thigh. I graze fingernails along the outside of his pajama pants and feel his erection growing.

He pulled me to straddle his lap. "You're so beautiful," he said as he gazed into my eyes. After opening my shirt, he cupped my breasts. His thumbs teased around my nipples, as he nibbled and sucked lightly along my neck. He leaned forward to claim my breast with his mouth. As he was sucking, biting, and flicking it with his tongue, I cradled his head, holding him closer. Sam kissed his way to the other nipple, being sure to pay just as much attention to it as he had the other. He nipped, licked, and teased causing me to moan.

I moved down Sam and on to my knees. I lowered his pants and released his cock. For a moment, I simply held him in her hand, wowed by his length and fullness. I lower my head to trace my tongue up and down the sides of his hard cock. I tease the tip and lap up the pre-cum; he tasted sweet and exciting. I traced the sides down. I took his balls gently into my mouth, my hair draping over like a curtain. Finally, I bring his cock into my mouth. Bit by bit, I took more of him into my mouth, all the while swirling my tongue. I gripped the base of his cock for stability. I bobbed my head up and down. I get into a wonderful rhythm. I purr as I feel him bulge inside my throat.

Sam pulled me up. He asked if I wanted to go any further, earning a nod. He removed my pajama pants and threw them over the edge of the bed to the floor to join our shirt. He rested me on my stomach. He kissed up my back as he climbed over me. He directed my hips up as he slowly slid his manhood into me. He whispered sweetly in my ear as he inched forward.

I shutter, feeling filled by Sam's cock.

He began as slow and steady rhythm, working in and out of me. He moaned into my ear with every thrust. He began to push faster, harder, and deeper. He reached further down and began to rub my clit, causing my undoing.

I could feel my toes lock in a curl and my leg twitching.I dropped my face into the mattress to hide my moans.

We both climax immensely, feeling a rush of pleasure overtake us together. Our bodies, hearts, minds, and souls were locked together for just a brief period. We both collapsed onto the bed. We began to catch our breath as we pull our bodies tightly together. We feel each other's heart beating fast.

Sam leaned in and kissed the top of my head before we dozed off to sleep.

* * *

For days, I was free. I enjoyed the company of the Evans family. I didn't realize how good everything was going until it was too late.

We were finishing out Christmas dinner, when Sam did the unthinkable. "Mercedes," he called as he slid out of his seat. He rested on one knee causing the room to gasp and cheer.

I was frozen in shock. I didn't breath until I heard my phone ring. _Saved by the bell_, I celebrated.

Mrs. Evans huffed when I stood. "You don't walk away from a proposal."

"Umm, This is an emergency," I lied. "I have to take this."

* * *

"You have to come back and accept the proposal," Sam directed, rushing into the room and closing the door behind him. He noticed my bag on the bed and asked, "What are you doing?"

The charade had to stop. If I didn't end it, who would've? Sam seemed like he could continue with this act forever.

"I called a cab. I'm leaving," I admitted, folding my clothes. I could easily see the hurt on Sam's face. "Did you forget that this was pretend?"

"It started that way, but after the other night, I thought we could… were something real."

"No." I began to shove the clothes into the bag, beginning to feel suffocated. I had to get out. "I can't have this," I whispered to myself.

"What can't you have?"

"This: a happy family, a happy relationship, a happy… Happiness! For people like me, it doesn't last." Sam wanted to argue, but I quickly stopped him. "Accept that this is done with."

"I'll let you go, but can I say something first?" he asked locking eyes with me. "I've thought about you too, Mercedes, but it didn't start this week. I always thought that you were amazing. Yes, I stopped pretending. Asking you to be my fake girlfriend was the most realest thing I've done in my entire life."

"Okay," I breathed. I grabbed my bag.

The day I walked out of the Evan's house was the day that I walk away from everything Sam. I turned in my job resignation. I left the city. I did what I had to do to.

* * *

**Thanks for reading.**

**I had originally wanted this as a full story, but I just didn't know if I could expand it. I think it was good as short. Would you have read it as a full story?**


	3. Faking It pt 2

Continuation of Chap 2

After a year, Mercedes was still on Sam's mind. He was surprised to find that his parents' new neighbor is a familiar face.

* * *

It's been a year since I brought Mercedes to meet my parents, and every time I come home, I think of her: Easter, Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, and birthdays. It never got better.

I dropped my bag at the door. "Hey, everyone," I said entering the family room. I lift my four month old nephew as I talked with my family.

Mom looked out the window as a moving truck passed. "Someone finally bought the house across the street. Trucks have been coming all week, but I still haven't seen the owner."

"She goes to the window every thirty minutes," Dad admitted, pulling her into his lap. He scanned the faces of his three kids, but stopped on Stevie. "Where's Georgia?"

"Oh, um, she got caught up in the storm. We took an earlier flight."

Stacy tapped at her phone. "This says that it's not snowing in-."

He quickly turned to Stacy. If looks could kill, there would have been a dead body between us. "Tell us about Drew," Stevie requested, redirecting the conversation.

"I would have loved to have met him. You should have invited him."

Dad nodded along. "We could have found him a room."

"Woah!" Stacy sat up. "You let Stevie and Georgia sleep in the same bed. You didn't separate Sam and Mercedes when they were together."

"Stevie and Georgia are married, and Mercedes isn't my daughter."

Stevie chucked to himself. "Not like Sam tried anything anyway."

I had to change the subject. "What's for dinner?"

"Pork chops," my mother answered before starting a conversation I didn't want to get into. "Do you know where Mercedes is now?"

"No, I don't," I answered. I cuddled the baby close.

"I really liked her. It's a shame that you couldn't work out, but I understand that family comes first. She ran out of here so fast last year. I hope her brother is okay."

The night Mercedes left, I told everyone that she had to leave to take care of her sick brother. They asked about Mercedes weeks after, and I told them that we broke up because she had to care for him full time. My parents never knew of the lie Mercedes and I told.

I stood. "Let's get this tree up."

* * *

I woke up the next morning and stretched out across the bed. I rubbed the side of the bed where Mercedes used to sleep before getting up. I got dressed for the day. I stopped in the hall, hearing Stacy in her room.

"I promise I'll tell them," she said into the phone. "No, no, I do. You should never doubt it." She paused when she noticed me. "I have to go."

"Drew?" I asked, earning a nod. "Let's get breakfast."

Stevie walked and bounced his crying son. He was growing more irritated with each lap around the kitchen. He tried to hold it in, but eventually he cracked. "Dad, feed him," he ordered, passing the baby. He stormed out of the house.

Stacy and I looked at each other, worried. We found him sitting under the tree in the front yard. We sat on his sides. We didn't say anything. We were just there.

"I'm just so tired of doing this alone," he admitted. He ruffled his hair. "Me and Georgia are done."

"You're divorcing?"

He nodded. "I'll ask her for one when I find her. She left two month ago. I haven't seen her. I don't know where she is."

"Two months? Who would leave their baby for that long?" Stacie asked. "I'll hunt her down."

"Relax. I just had to tell someone. I couldn't talk to Mom about it. She didn't like Georgia anyway." He made his voice high pitch to imitate our mother. "I knew it the minute I saw her. Some people aren't built to be wives. You should have listened to me. I know these things."

"Mom wouldn't have said that," I argued.

Stacy peeked around Stevie. "She wouldn't have said that to you. You're her golden boy, and you brought home Mercedes. What the hell was she going to complain about?" She took a deep breath. "Since we're getting things off our chest, I have something to say. I'm married."

"Why would you keep that a secret?"

Stacy shook her head, unsure of an answer. She played with the grass under her.

"You should have invited him here," I insisted.

"If Mom had known I was bringing someone home, she would have planned a big party. I didn't want to hear what everyone in town would say."

Stevie nodded. "Mom's not going to give up her Christmas Eve plans to party with the freaks from town."

She was quiet for a moment. "Our conscience is clear. Let's hug and go inside."

"I have something to confess," I said causing my younger siblings to giggle. "I'm serious. Last year, I asked Mercedes to pretend to be my girlfriend. She was my friend, and it was just supposed to have been for the holiday. I wanted to make Mom happy. We were bound to get caught up at some point, right? We-" I was cut off by their laughter.

"I thought I watched too much TV," Stacy chirped. "That never happens in real life."

"That's enough Hallmark movies for you, dude. Let's go." Stevie patted my shoulder as he hopped up.

A slow passing car caught our attention. It stopped across the street, and a woman got out. She didn't turn until she reached the porch of the house.

"Mercedes?" I asked myself. I rushed to the front door of the house. My heart raced faster with each knock.

Mercedes opened the door and smiled. "Hi, Sam."

"Hi," I breathed. I was excited to see her, but shocked too. I accepted her invitation to come inside. "You're living here? This is your house?"

She nodded. "I thought this house was perfect for me. When I got settled in, I was going to invite the neighbors over for hot cocoa," she joked with a giggle. "How are you? How's your family?"

"Everyone's fine," I answered. I was too amazed by her beauty. I missed her. "They would love to see you again."

She turned to look at the room full of boxes. "This can wait. I want to see them too. Did you tell them about what we did last year?"

I shook my head. As we exited the house, I explained all the lies I told to keep the original a secret. When we reached the road, I mindlessly reached for her hand. I smiled when I noticed that she didn't pull away. "Mom and Dad, come meet the new neighbor!" I yelled through the house.

Mercedes smiled as she stopped at the entrance of the sitting room. She scanned the room. "This is exactly the same… but there was a mistletoe hanging here," she said as she pointed up.

Mom entered the room and cheered at the sight. She invited Mercedes to spend the day with us and was glued to her side. She whispered and giggled hours away. When it was late, she ordered me to walk her home.

"Goodnight," I said. "There's no family activity tomorrow. I can come by and help you unpack… if you want."

She nodded. "Thank you." She gave me a soft peck on the cheek. "See you tomorrow."

* * *

After spending the whole day unpacking, we settled down to eat take out for dinner.

Mercedes laughed at my jokes. "You're still the same ol' Sam." She gathers our plates and took them to the kitchen.

She looked the same, but seemed a little different. I only got to see her like this a few days before she left me. She was, for lack of a better word, happy. She was happy, and wasn't fighting it.

"Is there a reason you bought the house across the street from my parents?" I asked. I was hoping to get my dream answer.

She leaned against the counter. "It was a steal, and I started a company in the city over," she explained.

"Oh," I said, disappointed.

"You probably wanted me to say that I move here for you, right?" She asked. "I know I made a mistake by leaving you, and it was stupid that it took three months and a long talk with my brother to know it. I knew how you felt and left anyway. I can't apologize enough."

"No, you did what you felt you had to do," I shrugged.

"I grew a lot this year. I learned that running from your problems won't solve them. You're always in the back of my mind. I should have told you that I loved you… I still do. If you're interested, I want to try a relationship with you- I mean really try. I want to stop being scared of anything that gives me pleasure."

I hugged her close and whispered, "I missed you so much." I took her round face in my hands, tilting it up toward my own, and kissed her very deeply. My hands moved down her throat and over her shoulders.

Mercedes gave a muffled moan as she pulled me closer. "You- I want you now," she breathed with her lips only meters away from mine. She began to undress herself before I could.

I helped her strip of all her clothes. I licked my lips at the sight of her naked in front of me. I reached out to touch her bare skin just below her breasts and then gently and slowly moving upward. My fingertips slid over the swell of her breasts, gently inching nearer and nearer to her nipples. "So perfect," I mumbled, hypnotized. I cupped her, and her breast overflowed the palm of my hand.

She didn't resist my hungry kisses. She closed her eyes and moaned quietly in anticipation.

I wanted to make her feel as special as she made me feel our first night. "Up," I ordered, moving my hands behind her thighs. I lifted her onto the counter, and immediately, she wrapped her legs around me to keep me close. I freed myself, knowing what I was going to do. I kissed every inch of Mercedes' body until I was on my knees in front of her. I opened her thick thighs wider.

I teased her, making my way around your pussy, kissing and gently petting. I breathed deeply, taking in her intoxicating scent. I was overcome with a desire to please. I kissed outside her lips, licking along the edge. I savored my first taste; the sweet, slightly sharp, yet exotic flavor over my taste buds. I lean in and slide my tongue the full length of her pussy, then quickly again. Nibbling, kissing, licking and sucking; I worked to please Mercedes in every way. I continued as I looked up and locked eyes with her.

She threw her head back and shuttered when I dipped my tongue inside of her. She lets out ragged breaths. Moments later, she removed her hand from my hair and tapped my shoulder as to say "enough of that." When I was up, she held me close and licked at my bottom lip. She opened my pants and freed my dick.

I was so excited that I entered her with a single thrust causing Mercedes gasp. I held her as she adjusted. When the time was right, I began to sink into her, giving her deep, slow thrusts that let her feel every inch of my cock.

Her hands were running over my body. Her nails scratching my back and aiding me in finding the right rhythm. "Please, Sam, faster." Mercedes' back arched and her toes curled at the change. She wrapped her legs around me, pulling me into her.

I made love to Mercedes there on the kitchen counter. My cock moving in and out, in and out, in and out of my hot pussy. I felt the muscles of her vagina pulsing around my cock, and knew she was close to climaxing. I wanted to feel her cum around my cock before I came myself. I scooted her closer to the edge of the counter to go deeper inside of her.

She buried her face into my neck, moaning into my ear as she felt her orgasm building inside her. Her body tightened. Her legs spasmed as she came. Her pussy gripped tight around my cock.

A familiar energy begin to surge through my body from my toes straight up my spine. I pushed into her as deep as I could and shot out a river of cum. I clenched her hips as the last drop shot inside her. I rested on her chest, panting heavily.

Mercedes and I spent the rest of the night christening her new house with our love. We went room to room. Our last stop was her bedroom.

I tightened around Mercedes, hugging her closer. "I wish we could stay like this forever," I whispered.

Mercedes hummed in agreement. She scooted back against my chest.

"But we can't." I pecked at the back of her shoulder before pulling away. I chucked when Mercedes rolled over and reached to stop me. "If I stay any longer, then neither of us will get any sleep." I got dressed and kissed her goodbye.

* * *

Stacy slammed my door open causing me to jump out of my sleep. "Sam, come to the living room." She left me to wake up the rest of the family.

"You are too old to get this excited for Christmas," I muttered. I lied down and tried to fall back asleep.

Stacy returned to my room. She took the pillow from the other side of the bed and hit me with it. "Now!" She stormed away, leaving me to drag myself out of bed.

"When you were kids, we at least got five hours of sleep on Christmas morning," Dad said as we gathered.

I leaned against the arm of the chair where Stevie sat. I wanted to complain about being woken so early, but didn't. I studied Stacy's red and swollen face.

My sister sat at the edge of the coffee table, facing our parents. She nervously tugged at the long sleeve of her pajamas. "I've been up all night thinking of how I was going to tell you. I don't like keeping things from you."

Mom reached out and softly padded Stacy's leg as encouragement.

"I've accepted it and built my life around it, but I could never say it. It was a single word that I couldn't say. It hurt me to. I knew if I had said it out loud, my whole world would change." Tears streamed from her eyes. "I will still be the baby you held at the hospital, and the same little girl you taught to ride a bike. I'm the very same one that lost her first tooth when Stevie pushed her too hard on the swing. I'm still the one that slowed Sam down mornings that he walked us to school because I wanted to jump in every rain puddle. I will be all that and everything I was a minute ago, but I'll be free."

"What are you trying to say, honey?"

She looked up at the ceiling and admitted up to the heavens, "I'm gay."

My mother pulled Stacy to sit between her and my father. "It's okay. It is okay," she comforted, petting her daughter's blonde hair. "There's nothing that you can't tell us. You have nothing to apologize for, nothing to be guilty for, and nothing to be ashamed of."

"Your friends will think it's wrong," she said through sniffles. "They'll think I'm wrong."

"This is who you are, right?" Dad turned Stacy to look at him. "You are good, and anyone that thinks differently is wrong. We'd love you no matter what… We love all of you," he said, looking out at me and Stevie

"Always have, always will," Mom added. "And you didn't have to make up a fake relationsh-"

Stacy shook her head. "Drew's my wife."

"Does she make you happy?"

"She does," Stacy admitted, wiping away her last tear. "She makes me so happy, Dad. She's strong and caring… She's everything you could want for me."

"Then it's okay.

I was proud of Stacy. I actually felt relieved knowing that she could be open. She was my sister, and I was going to support her regardless.

"Does anyone else have something to say?" Mom looked at me and Stevie.

Under our mom's watch, we felt like little kids again. "No," we said in unison. We lied.

* * *

Mercedes scanned the room with bright eyes. "I know this all started as a crazy scheme, but this was obviously the real plan."

I nodded in agreement. "You were meant for me." I took her hand and kissed it.

She lead me to the center of the room and asked for everyone's attention. "I had known Sam for years. He was right under my nose, but I had to come here to know that I loved him. Last year, Sam was about to propose, but I ran. I wasn't willing to let someone into my life just to lose them later. What I'm about to do doesn't mean we'll have a happily ever after, but you are worth taking a chance, Sam." Mercedes lowered to her knees. "I've never been happier than when I around you, and I want to stay that way for as long as possible. I know this is a little crazy because we've only been back together for a few days, so I'll give you time. If you still feel the same about me a year from now, will you marry me next Christmas?"

"No."

"No?" Everyone erupted.

"No, no, I mean- Mercedes," I called, helping her up. "Mercedes Jones, I want you to be my wife as soon as possible… Mom, how fast can you help plan a wedding?"

My mother quickly answered, "New Year's!"

I never looked away from Mercedes. "What are you doing for New Year's Day?"

Mercedes smiled at me and nodded. "I'm getting married."

I kissed her like the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with- like the future Mrs. Evans.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you thought of these two chapters. This chap was more like how it would have been if it was a full fic; Stacy and Stevie would have been important too. I read this twenty times to be sure that this was nice.**


	4. A Royal Engagement

Sam's in love with someone other than the one he's to wed.

* * *

I was always told that great kings make sacrifices. My heart was my offering to make people happy. I was to marry another royal, Rachel. I had much respect for her but I wasn't comfortable with our arrangement. I was deeply in love with Mercedes.

Her family worked for mine for generations, so we've grown up together. She was patient. She cared for everyone. She was an employee, but in my eyes she was a queen. I always thought that she was too good to wait on my family hand and foot, so she became my family's stylist. She liked fashion, and I could easily find her. Whenever the chance came, I wanted to promote her to a position closer to me.

I stopped strolling through the halls when I noticed her working in a room. I noticed the frown on her face; she was beautiful, but the sight wasn't pleasant. I stepped forward and carefully pushed the door. "Mer-" I froze when the door slammed back in my face.

"Sam, you can't come in," Rachel spoke. "I'm in my dress."

"Um…" I couldn't ask for Mercedes when I had nothing for her to do: it would have look suspicious. I reminded Rachel of our prior appointments and walked away.

* * *

After hours of greeting and interviews, I just wanted to be with Mercedes. That night, as I passed through the kitchen I found Finn. I smiled and asked what he was doing.

"Rachel likes tea before bed," he answered as he finished.

Finn was the newest kitchen worker. When Rachel left her country, she insisted that Finn join. His role wasn't big. The senior staff gave him a lot of busy work like clearing the table and washing dishes. They didn't trust him with food prep, but Rachel wanted him there.

I offered to take it from him and was thankful that he declined. When Finn left, I continued to the staff quarters. I silently admire the beauty tucked into bed with her sketchbook. "I remember when you use to sleep," I joked, locking the door behind me. I approached her and leaned forward for a kiss.

"This room is rarely used for sleeping," Mercedes joked, putting her art supplies to the side.

I threw her covers back and joined her. I crawled over her as she rested on her back. "Oh, I've been thinking about you all day." I trailed kisses from her lips to her neck, only stopping to take in the scent of her body wash. My hand moved along her smooth skin under her gown, and to my surprise, she wasn't wearing underwear.

She huffed when my thumb rubbed over her clit and again when I entered fingers into her warm sex. She bit her lip to smother her moans, but her body gave signs of her satisfaction. She was getting wetter by the second. With her fingers in my hair, she pulled me back to her lips. Her hips rocked into the palm of my hand.

I waited until she was right at the edge of climaxing and then stopped. I withdrew, and Mercedes whimpered in protest. I tried to undress quickly, but I wasn't moving fast enough for her. I finished with help. I freed Mercedes of her gown and laid her back onto her pillow. Between her legs, I carefully rubbed my hard member against her soft folds, and then I pushed into her hole that no other man had entered.

The room was filled with the sound of our skin rubbing. Pleasure radiated. Our hips moved in sync. There is no rush, no panic. We loved hard with heavy kisses.

I fall into the mattress and pull Mercedes close; she fitted comfortably to my chest. I could only enjoy silence when we were together. I took her hand and lifted it. I admired her almond colored fingers in my pale hand.

Mercedes broke the still. "Rachel looked beautiful in her dress."

I wished she didn't bring Rachael up during our time together. "You can't design anything less than perfect." I turned, expecting to see her desk and wall covered with her fashion sketches. "Where's you-"

"I quit."

Woah, what was I hearing? "Quit what?"

"I quit," she repeated. She sat up and held the covers over her chest. "I turned in my resignation weeks ago, but I would never leave without letting you know. I was going to tell you."

"You're leaving?"

"A new stylist has been hired. My parents will continue to work, but I want different."

"But w- I-" I struggled to make words. I was hurt that she kept her secret for weeks. "Where would you go?"

She explained that she would live with her cousin. She wouldn't be far, but I still wasn't happy. "I am obligated to finish the wedding dress alterations, but after that..." She shrugged. "I'd be free to build my life the way I want it. You'd settle into your marriage easier if I was gone." Mercedes lifted her finger to shush me. She was silent for a long time. "You will be married in three days, and there's a lot of preparations left. I think you should get to bed." That was her way of kicking me out, and she didn't want to hear any debate.

* * *

My meeting with my father was a relief from wedding planning. My father was happy for me, but he wanted to know my plans for after the ceremony. "Help the people and make decisions with your county in mind," was the phrase he made all live by. He was very focused on my charity work.

A knock on the office door caused our conversation to halt. We both turned and waited for the visitor.

Mercedes peeked into the room. "Sorry to interrupt."

"Were finished for today," my father admitted, returning his attention to his stacks of paper. "Mercedes, do you mind taking the tray to the kitchen."

"No." I move the pitcher and glasses of water to the tray. "I will take it. You're a stylist - not a server."

She stopped me as I passed her. She took hold of the handles. "I will take it. I think you should talk to Rachel."

Rachel wasn't a malicious person, but I had to defend Mercedes. "What did she do to you?"

Mercedes quickly shook her head. "No, no. I helped her out of her dress then she started crying. It's been fifteen minutes."

Rachel sat in her robe. Her face was red and wet with tears. She spoke in murmurs that were too weak to hear clearly. She refused to accept the comfort from her old friend.

I asked Finn to leave, and then I took the seat beside the brunette. I rested one of my hands on her shoulder and the other reached for her hand. I tried to console her. I offered her food, water, and tea. "Is it the wedding? Your dress?"

Her cries grew louder.

I refused to leave her. I knew she would have had to calm down eventually. I pulled her into a hug, feeling her trembling. Because of our closeness, I was able to hear her more clearly.

"I can't. I can't do this," she lowly chanted. She wept for several more minutes. She had no more tears to cry. Rachel following my advice and began to take deep breaths. After another minute, she moved away and dabbed at her tear stained face. "I can't marry you," she admitted to me. "I wish I had told you earlier, but I didn't know how. I can't do it, Sam."

I silently thanked God.

She sniffed and looked at her hands in her lap. "I love Finn too much to continue."

"You love Finn?" I smiled, thinking that they were just like me and Mercedes. My smile dropped before she looked at me.

"More than anyone will ever understand." She took a slow inhale and fast exhale. "I was told not to rock the boat. The princess marries a prince… Not the help. People don't see how special Finn is. Sam, I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to forgive," I admitted. I admired her for what she was doing. "Not a lot of people stand up for someone that they love."

We were calling the wedding off. I volunteered to address the staff alone. With much public attention invested in Rachel and I's relationship, I had to announce it to the press, but that would be done later. The flowers, cake, and anything else bought would be donated to a cause.

I found Mercedes in the wardrobe, planning my family's look for the next day. "You weren't at the staff meeting."

"I had a lot of work." She placed the jacket on the rack. Her eyes grew as I approached her for a kiss. "Sam," she warned and pointed to the open door.

I didn't care. I loved her, and everyone needed to know.

* * *

**Thanks for reading the first 4 chapters of Love, Death & Samcedes. Please don't hesitate to review or leave a prompt. I will eventually be exploring the "death" portion of the title. These stories are a little more story driven than my other collection, so it might take me longer to update. My minimum goal is 18 chapters (15 New), and I'm determined to meet it.**


	5. Resting Place (NS)

**This chapter doesn't have smut, but I worked hard. There will rarely be chapters without smut, but when there is, I'll mark the title with "NS" and put it in the summery. Please enjoy.**

* * *

No smut: Sam's forced to move to Lima, OH. After meeting a girl, Sam learns a dark history of the town.

* * *

I hated that my parents moved me to Ohio; Tennessee was my home. I didn't like the new school. I didn't want to make new friends. The first week, I even refused to unpack.

My mom loved the house and always said it was a steal. She wanted a place where her and my dad could settle and spend the rest of their lives. "Sam, this is what we saved for. There's plenty of room, and we finally have a backyard." She pointed out at the five flowerless bushes along the far side of the fence. "I can even start a garden." She had dreams.

"You don't know anything about gardening."

My dad put his foot down. "We're not leaving," he said with a stern voice. "Now, find something to do. Help your brother with his homework."

I growled and stomped off. I found my younger siblings sitting on the front step, but felt concerned that they weren't alone. I thought, "_How dare this person? You don't just walk up and get comfortable with two kids. Don't people go to jail for that?_"

The girl sat between my brother and sister. She talked them thought their schoolwork, but gave more attention to Stevie "What you do to one side, you have to do to the other. If you subtract eight-"

"Hi," I cut in.

She stood and turned. She greeted me with a smile. "Hey, I'm Mercedes Jones. I just wanted to meet the new neighbors. I live next door."

"I've never seen you around here." I noticed that we looked to be around the same age. "I haven't seen you in school."

"Um." Her pause was too long. "I'm homeschooled."

Stacy looked up at me. "She's really smart, Sammy."

"If you're done with your work, go put it away," I ordered causing the kids to run into the house. "Nice to meet you, Mercedes, but I have-" I stopped as my phone began to ring. I fished it out of my pocket. I had only looked down for a second.

Mercedes had walked off… quickly.

I brushed it off; she was gone. I went inside, talking to my friend.

* * *

My parents met her the next day. They quickly noticed how their young kids took to her. They offered her the opportunity to tutor a few days a week. After a few weeks, their invitation extended to me.

Mercedes and I became very close. She occasionally stopped by on days that she wasn't tutoring. We had so much in common and plenty to talk about. She had changed my mind from when I first met her; I saw her as the amazing person that everyone loved. I even started to have special feelings towards her; Stevie wasn't the only one that had a crush on her.

"Stevie and Stacy are watching cartoons," Mercedes announced as she strutted into the kitchen. She sat at the table that was covered by my books. She smiled when she noticed my open history book. "My uncle fff-" She stopped to think of a correction. "My grandfather fought in the Vietnam War."

Just like she had her good moments she had her bad… Not bad, but she came off as odd. She always tried to correct herself or play it off innocently.

I tried to pay attention to what Mercedes was reading to me, but kept getting distracted by her. I silently questioned if there was something between us. "_Just a little kiss on the cheek. It worked so well in the first grade, right? Just go for it,_" I thought to myself.

Mercedes looked up. "Are you paying attention to-"

I kissed her, but it didn't go as planned. It was a peck, but it was on her lips instead of her cheek. I was too surprised to notice if there was a spark.

Her cheeks rose as she blushingly smiled. "What was that for?"

The boldness that convinced me to kiss her had vanished. "I, um." I stumbled for words. "I don't know."

She giggled. Like the girl from my first grade class, she thought it was just cute. "Please focus." She returned to her lesson.

Although I threw a fit when I moved to Ohio, I did make a few friends. I jumped for my phone when I got a text.

Mercedes was patient to let me read the message, but she didn't let me reply. She took the cell phone and slid the book closer to me. She used the open access and what I taught her to tap through my phone. Mercedes scrolled through my playlist of music. "I love Micheal Jackson. It's been awhile since he's released new music."

I turned away from my notes. "That's pretty hard for a dead man to do."

"Micheal Jackson is not dead. Next you're going to tell me Whitney Houston is too."

"... Yeah. Where have you been for the past few years?"

She was shocked by the information, but played it off with a joke. She admitted she had to go. Before I could offer, she declined, "I can show myself out."

"Wait." I reached out to stop her. "There's a party Friday night. Do you want to go with me?" I noticed her frown as she stood silently. "It's not far from here," I added, thinking that would make the idea sound more comforting.

I've never seen Mercedes in public. I've never seen her past my front yard. If she turned down the party, then I would have asked her to a movie. I wasn't looking for a date, but I did want her to go out and do something fun.

"No," she finally answered. She didn't ask any questions. She didn't give me a reason. She didn't give me the chance to offer the alternative. "See you later, Sam."

Mercedes continued to tutor until the end of the school year. When the summer began, her visits became rare and scattered. She promised that it wasn't anything my family had done, but I continued to think it was my fault.

* * *

For the Fourth of July, the neighbors threw a party. They invited the whole neighborhood. They had met my family but wanted to introduce us to more families.

I stood out. I was the only teenager there. I didn't understand what the adults were talking about. I didn't want to be near the kids. I was alone.

I approached the hosts. "I was looking for Mercedes."

"Who, Sam?"

My father spoke for me. "Mercedes, your daughter."

The couple looked at us with raised eyebrows.

The Smiths didn't have a daughter. They only had a young son. They told us that there wasn't a Jones family in our neighborhood.

We couldn't believe it. My family welcomed a stranger into our house. Everything we had learned about her was a lie.

* * *

I vowed to confront Mercedes when I saw her. I thought and practiced what I would have said. I wasted weeks, obsessing over Mercedes before I had the bright idea to look her up. I doubted if Mercedes Jones was her real name, but I wanted to know something. I spent a weekend at the library. I was determined, and I wasn't going to let anything, including my dyslexia, stop me from learning. Luckily, I found her name in a book of Lima's history. I checked the book out and rushed home to show my family.

"Yes, this is her," my dad announced, studying the picture. "But this all happened in the 90s."

Lima was a calm town, but when seven teens go missing in a span of two years, it gets attention. They all had dreams of getting out of town, but their parents swore that they wouldn't leave without letting anyone know. The missing ranged from age twelve to seventeen. More than 20 years later, none of the victims have been seen in public.

Mom began to place plates at the table. "Get ready for dinner," she ordered. When we tried to show her the picture, she shut us down. "Put that book away, wash your hands, so we can have a family dinner before your father goes to work." My mom was the only one that was able to bury the memory of Mercedes: out of sight, out of mind.

After dinner, everyone went on with their day. Dad started getting ready for work. Mom, with the help of Stevie, washed the dishes. Stacy was drawing. I took my book up stairs.

There she was. Mercedes sat on my bed, and didn't jump when I came in. Her eyes shifted from the sunset outside the window to her hands in her lap. She didn't want to make eye contact. She knew that we had found out her secret. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she repeated.

"What is this, Mercedes?" I asked, waving the book. I only got a shrug. "Why are you here?"

"I can't leave," she softly admitted. She began to fidget with her fingers. "It was 1994 when I started taking music lessons. I save all my money to keep my parents from finding out. They didn't want to feed into my pipe dreams and fantasies. My coach ran lessons out of her house- this house." She grew silent.

I could have waited hours for her to finish her story. I closed the door for privacy. Sitting beside her, I rested my hand on her shoulder; she felt solid… and real. "Are you dead?"

She began to sniffled. When a tear fell on hand, she quickly wiped it on her shirt. "I showed up for my lesson, and she was out running errands. Her husband let me wait. I remember everything he did. It was awful." Clearly, she needed a hug, and I gave it to her. When she was in my arms, she began to cry. She soaked my shoulder with tears. "It's torture being here. I don't know how to leave, and I want to so bad… We all do."

"We?" I carefully straightened Mercedes. I opened the book and asked, "Who's we?"

She pointed to four pictures: two boys and two other girls. "They're hiding from your family. They don't want to show themselves."

I was silent as Mercedes read the article for herself.

She purposely skipped over her picture. She closed the book and walked to the window. Tapping the glass, she said, "We don't know how our families are, and they don't know about us. We've missed graduations, anniversaries, birthdays… funerals. I might have nieces and nephews. There's so much out there, and we're here."

I took her hand to stop her tapping, but she continued to stare out at the back yard. I followed her gaze and pointed. "Here?"

Where they buried in the garden?

Mercedes nodded. "We were too scared of him to get help."

"You shouldnt be scared of my family." I rushed out of the house on a mission. I wasn't sure if uncovering their bodies was going to free them, but I was going to solve the mystery for their families. I thought everyone deserved to be at peace. I snatched the shevel from the shed.

My mom stormed out of the house. "Get out of my flower bed!" she ordered. She had been working on her garden since spring. If only she had known what was a few inches deeper.

I ignored the calls from my family. I continued to dig until I found a white piece sticking out of the dirt. I wasn't great with health, but I was sure it was a finger bone. I yelled to my parents, "Call the police!"

The police found five bodies in the backyard- one beside the other. They never asked how I knew where the victims were, but if they did, they would have thought that I was crazy. They wanted to search the land for more bodies, so my family was paid to move. The house was demolished, but no more bodies were found.

Mercedes appeared to me one last time. "Thank you, Sam" was all that she said. She blessed me with another smile before fading into a bright light. She was able to rest.

* * *

**Thanks for reading.**

**Small question: Would it be easier to read if I put the POV at the start of the chapters, or do you catch on when you start reading?**


	6. Defiant Hearts

The tale of two hearts brought into a war. Could a girl from the wrong side of the track and the oldest son of a political family find a happy ending?

* * *

I entered the room to find my brothers packing for a job. "I want to go."

"No," my oldest brother, Malcolm, refused. He dropped a can of spray paint in his bag. "You're just going to be in the way." He pretended to listen to my argument. He was more interested in preparing for the night of crime.

When I noticed my father in the doorway, I knew to argue my case for him. "It's a simple robbery. I've done it before. It can't be that dangerous if you're taking Miles," I said, beginning a fight with my other brother.

My father took my face in his hands. "Mercedes, no. You're my baby girl. I wouldn't know what to do if something happened to you." He straightened the charm on my necklace. "Your mother would never let me be."

Miles nodded. "So get a juice box and watch your cartoons."

I was pushed out of the room before I could argue. I hated when they did that. I was the youngest, but I wasn't a child. I could do the research and stake the place out. When the time came for the actual job, I had to sit in the corner.

Because I wasn't allowed to participate with my family, I decided to go clubbing. I knew that I couldn't go to a club on my side of town: everything I did would be reported back to my father. I was going to drink and dance with strangers. "The best drinks are the ones bought by a northsider," I always said.

A tall blond peaked my interest. He dressed like every preppy northsider. He threw his money around the bar and couldn't keep his hands off me when we danced.

I didn't know his name, but that didn't deter me. I pulled him close and whispered, "I don't want to be alone tonight." I watch his smile grow. Following him to his apartment, I thought we were on the same page.

He talked all night. He told me his hobbies and favorite movie. He opened up about his "entrepreneur" parents. He carried the conversation. The man moved slowly. Twisting my necklace between his fingers, he asked, "Does this mean something?"

Spade-shaped charm weren't common in town. Out of all my father's members, there were only two to wear the necklace. It was originally my mother's, but when she died, it became mine: from the queen to the princess.

I backed away. "Um, it's a family thing." I wasn't going to disclose my family's business. I'm no snitch.

"I knew about what happens on the south side… It's a gang thing." He stopped me before I could speak. "You don't have to deny it or defend it."

"I wasn't," I argued. When he promised that he wouldn't tell, I responded, "I'm not worried."

If any member of the Southside Spades is arrested, a few events follow. First the snitch is hunted down- he's always found. He disappears, and his family is left with a debt that's paid to us as an apology. The arrested Spade member is magically released from jail within three weeks. It never fails to happen. Everyone knows the cycle. It's to show that there's nothing good for anyone that would rat to the law.

"Would it bother your father if he knew that you spent the night with an Evans?"

"First, I don't care what my father thinks. Second, I wasted a night, drinking soda, and listening to your bad stories," I argued. "Lastly, what does an 'Evans' have to do with me or my family?"

"My dad is running for mayor." After hours of being together, the man finally gives me his name. "I'm Sam Evans." He shook his head after I gave him a fake name. He knew who I was.

I sipped from my soda before asking, "Would it bother your father if he knew that you spent the night with a Jones?" I made it very clear that I was mocking him.

He nodded his head. "My dad thinks your family is behind a lot of the things wrong with this town."

I don't appreciate anyone that would disrespect my family. I forced a smile and warned, "He shouldn't spend a lot of money on his campaign."

The election was rigged from the start. Hummel would win for a second term. He would work in our favor, and the activities of the south side would continue.

With knocking on his door, Sam paused our discussion. He opened it to another blond men- his younger brother. He tried to keep us hidden from each other as he investigated why his brother was there.

I sat back, listening to the discussion about the brother's 'lunch date' plans. I hissed at the two. "Ugh, northsiders," I grumbled.

"You can have one, but have to choose fast," Sam ordered. He waved his brother into the apartment.. As they passed through the living room, he promised me one minute. He closed the door while they were in the bedroom.

When I'm a topic of conversation, I have the right to listen. I ignored the two as they debated green or blue. I leaned closer to the door when I was brought up.

"I know you want some cred and to piss off dad... but a southsider?"

"Stevie," Sam breathed. "How do you know she's from the south side of town? You only saw her for five seconds."

"That's all I needed. Look at her- leather jacket, high heels, dark makeup, face piercings," he listed. "Yeah, she's from the south side, in case you didn't know."

I opened the door, and leaned against the frame as I watched their shocked reactions. "I have to go. I got plans," I said out loud. Inside, I thought, "_Plans that don't include a lunch date. Who does that? Old couples, that's who._"

After every job my family pulled, I was required to sit and watch the news for two days straight. I was watching for any updates on what they had done. It was a pain to do, and I hate to watch the news at any other time because of it.

When Sam asked for my phone number, I considered giving him a fake, but I didn't have the energy to make one up. I felt Stevie's eyes on me, and he didn't try to hide it after I looked up. I scanned him and the two jackets in his hands. "You'd look nice in blue." I passed Sam his phone and said bye.

* * *

Sam and I talked on the phone almost everyday for the next six months. Our conversations were better than the one we had on the first night. We hung out in public a few times, but I was careful not to be seen by anyone from the south side. We were getting closer and closer.

I had just arrived home from work when I got a call from Sam. "Hello?" I stretched, trying to undo the buttons and zipper in the back of my dress.

"Come to your window," he ordered. When I looked out from the second floor, he waved at me. He smiled. "I followed you from the club. You looked beautiful."

I looked down at the blond on the ground. "Congratulations. You're one paper away from being a full-blown stalker," I joked. "Do you want to come up?"

Inside, Sam scanned his surroundings. He followed me though my family's house. "You're home alone?"

With a shrug, I admitted, "Not surprised if I am." I closed the door of my bedroom and returned to my struggle with my dress. I finally got Sam to get me out of my clothes, but that was just so I could change into my silk pajamas.

Sam didn't like the idea of me being alone… in my own home. He wanted to stick around for as long as he could. He did most of the talking, and when he decided that it was late, he joined me in bed.

I hardly ever liked to cuddle, but I could make an exception if I was the big spoon. I nestled close to him. With my face buried into his back, I longingly inhaled, taking in his scent. My fingers traced his defined abs through his shirt before traveling further down.

He airily laughed when I unbuttoned his pants. "You should get some sleep."

"Not tired," I announced as my hand slithered under the band of his underwear. I feel his heat against my skin. "Is there a time of day where you are not hard?" I took his thick member with a firm grip before I began to move my hand up and down.

Sam let out a deep breath. "It's what you do to me." He moaned and thrusted with my rhythm. After a minute, he scooted and rolled onto his back. He began to remove his pants from under the covers. "I want you to ride me. I need you to."

With our pants discarded on the floor, I straddled the guy. I felt chills when Sam grabbed my hips; he had a magical effect on me unlike any other boy. My fingers twisted in the white shirt that covered his chest as I lowered myself onto his cock. I reached his base and purred with pleasure. I loved being filled, but I needed a moment to adjust. I advanced from slow rolling grinds to bouncy thrusts that worked up a sweat.

His hands roamed over my skin. Greedy, he tore open my top, ripping off most of its buttons. He quickly went for my breasts, touching, squeezing, rubbing. "Your boobs are great."

"Oh, Sam," I moaned. My body began to tighten as my orgasm built. "I need to cum, and I'm so close. Please, Sam, don't stop." I threw my head back and let my emotions take me over.

"WHAT THE HELL!"

I tumbled from over Sam and pulled the bed covers up to my chin. With wide eyes I see Miles in my doorway. "Get out!" I threw my pillow at him, but missed as my brother closed the door. I fell back into my bed with my heartbeat racing in my ears.

When his shock settled, Sam suggested, "I think I should go." He dressed and allowed me to show him out.

Miles leaned against the wall across from my door. When Sam and I came into view, he looked us up and down. He warned me, "We're going to talk about this later."

"No, we're not." I took Sam's hand and lead him forward. I opened the front door and swung my arm for him to walk through the exit.

"I actually came here for a reason," he admitted as he stepped over the threshold. He invited me to dinner with his parents.

"Isn't meeting families something you save for a girlfriend?" I asked.

Sam pulled me close. "Yes," he answered. His lips rested on mine- our first kiss where we weren't looking over our shoulders for someone that wasn't there. He took a step back to study me. "I know you will look beautiful… but, um, can you take out the nose ring. It's my mom." His smile grew when I rolled my eyes.

* * *

I had asked around about the Evans family, and I found out a lot of interesting things. Stacy, the youngest of the Evan children, had a nasty temper, but her record was clean. Sam and Stevie were known to do something strange for a little piece of change. Sam admitted that he stripped for a while. No one could specifically say what Stevie did with his sugar mamas, but he was well taken care of. Mary Evans seemed like a quiet, pampered housewife, but she was almost as devilish as her husband. Sometimes, he was her puppet, but Dwight did have a wild hair up his ass for the poorer side of town. Everyone that steps outside, knows that the Evans got their money through untraceable frauds and laundering.

I didn't want to bring up what I knew about the family. I didn't want to rub in Dwight's loss in the election. I didn't want to have to defend my family and friends. I wanted to sit back and eat my dry steak. I wanted a calm night, but they couldn't let me be.

At the start of the night, the only sounds that could be heard was the silverware hitting. Eyes occasionally peeked up from plate to look at me. Everyone ate in silence until Mrs. Evans addressed me.

"What do you do for a living, Mercedes?"

I politely smiled and answered, "I'm a singer at the local watering hole. It's a fabulous place to be." I never wasted an opportunity to plug my friend's business.

After getting a name, Stacy admitted, "I've passed by that bar on my way out of town. Fabulous didn't come to mind." Her tone sounded a little too snarky for my liking.

"The inside reflects the styles of the late 30s: classic," I calmly argued. I grinned at my thoughts, and I decided to share without thinking of where it could lead the conversation. "It's owned by Kurt Hummel. He would hate to hear anyone call his business a bar. He prefers it be called a speakeasy. He refuses to listen when we tell him that speakeasies were illegal, but he loves the word." I quiet back down after realizing that I was the only one who was entertained.

"You're friends with Burt's son?" Dwight was looking for a reason to talk about the election. He asked for my opinion on Burt. He hoped that I would slip up and admit that my father has an influence over the race.

Burt might have been in my father's pocket, but he was still better than Dwight Evans. While Dwight wanted to throw a community away, Burt encouraged the people to change the community and themselves. Burt was a charitable man. He donated money to those in need, and his competition held his money from everyone- even his kids. It was nice that Dwight was book smart, but Burt was relatable.

I praised the Hummels, and it was clearly getting to the father. I took a little pleasure in it. "He's inspirational. I've considered getting into politics... Maybe I should run for Governor in the future."

The youngsters at the end of the table snickered. "Are you even qualified?"

"Very," I quickly answered. Yes, I was offended. "If I was able to change one thing, equality amongst all classes. Criminals that commit white-collar crimes would be treated like the ones that committed blue-collar crimes." That was what I believed, and I wasn't going to change my mind just because I was sitting across from a loose criminal.

After that point, it became the dinner party from hell. I was ambushed with questions about politics and law. They threw out ridiculous and untrue statistics. Never outright, they took digs at my family and insulted the people on my side of town. They pushed my buttons, and I refused to give them the satisfaction of watching me explode.

Sam didn't speak up. He didn't defend me. He didn't call off his rabid family. He let everything happen.

Mrs. Evans dismissed everyone to leave the table. She wanted to be alone with me. She had used the dinner to judge me. With every compliment she gave, a brutal critique followed. She ended her list with saying, "south side, north side, west side- I don't care. You seem to have your head on straight. My son seems very serious about you, and I approve." She gave me permission to date her son. She locked eyes with me and promised "But if you ever hurt him, I will burn you." She had nothing to worry about .

* * *

I promised myself that I was done with Sam Evans. I couldn't forgive him for what happened that night. I wanted to wipe him out of my life.

"What do you want to do for your birthday?" my father asked from his chair.

"I want my first tattoo." Why couldn't I have one when my brothers had plenty of them?

He gave me the usual "baby girl" speech. 25 or older, he wasn't letting his daughter get inked. "You have two weeks to come to your senses."

Malcolm entered the living room with a bouquet of flowers. "Mercedes these came for you." He passed the flowers but took the card. He read, "I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I'm sorry. From Sam."

When I heard his name, I dropped the flowers to the floor. I sat back into the sofa and returned to watching TV. I had moved on with my life.

Sam didn't want to let me go. He called all the time. He sent gifts everyday I rejected him. He tried to get my attention, but I didn't want to be bothered by him.

Miles picked up the flowers from the floor. "If you don't want them, can I have them? I can give them to one of my snacks."

"Your what?"

"My women," he said as if we should have known. He took the card and read it for himself. "Sam? Isn't that the boy I caught you in bed with?"

My father straightened at the news. "You were having sex with a boy?"

Miles loved to see me in trouble with my father. "Yeah, they were upstairs."

I looked into my father's eyes. "That's not true." I would have been believed over Miles. "I have to get ready for work." I left. I jumped back as I entered my bedroom, surprised to see a tall blond.

Sam shushed me before I could scream for my brothers. "Please let me explain."

"Get out now, or I'll call the police."

"Please give me five minutes."

I shook my head. "There's nothing you can say, and I have nothing else to give."

Did he want to flaunt me in front of his father? He got that. Did he want sex from me? He got that too. Did he want the chance to humiliate me? He had gotten everything he could have wanted from me, but why couldn't he leave me alone?

He swore, "I just want to be with you." He watched as my eyes shifted with irritation. "Yes I knew what my parents were planning to do. They were tough on you because they wanted to see how you'd take the pressure. Were you going to take everything they said, or were you going to throw dirt back? I didn't worry because I know how strong you are. You didn't need me to stand up for you."

I gave him no verbal response. I walked across the room for my cell phone. After dialing the number, I listened to the ringing through the speakers.

"Judge Chang," the family friend introduced.

"It's Mercedes," I announced. I crossed my arms and stared at Sam. "I wanted to stop by your office. Maybe you could help me file a restraining order."

Sam threw up his hands. He was giving up. "Goodbye, Mercedes" was the last thing he said to me before walking out.

I interrupted the judge. "Never mind. Bye Mr. Chang. Tell Tina I said hi."

* * *

I had won. Thankful, my life had returned to normal- everything it was before Sam. I didn't have any calls to ignore. I didn't get any gifts. I didn't hear his name for nine whole days.

I fell into the sofa, ready for mindless Saturday morning TV. I groaned after finding the news on. Before I could change the channel, a photo of a beautiful blond man appeared and caught my attention. I hurry to turn the volume up.

"... confirmed that the victim in the late night shooting was 24 year old Samuel Evans," the report said. "At this moment, investigators don't have a motive, but believe that it was political. Samuel was the son of former mayoral candidate, Dwight... "

I couldn't hear anymore. My brain wouldn't process what the news anchor said; the news was too big for understanding. I felt like I had been punched in the chest and there was no air to refill my lungs. I wanted Sam to stay away from me, but I would have never wished for his death. When my daze ended, I felt angry.

"Which one of you did it?" I asked as I stormed into my father's office. I immediately went after my idiot brother. "Miles, how could you do that."

Miles ran as I chased him around the room. "It's too early for me to put up with your PMS." He quickly dodged the paperweight that I threw from my father's desk.

Malcolm stopped me. "What's wrong?"

Malcolm was popular as a murder for hire. For a pretty penny, he would have taken out anyone he was asked to. He was really good at it. He could never be tied to the killings because the police could never prove his part.

"Did you do it?" I asked him. I shoved him backwards, but all I wanted to do was punch him in the face. "You killed Sam, didn't you?"

"Who?"

Through all the chaos around him, my father sat comfortably in his seat. "Everyone, sit down. Mercedes, tell me what you're mad about," he ordered.

"What did you do last night? Were you on the north side?" I only received silence. "Tell me!"

I didn't want to sit. I didn't want to be touched. I didn't want to be calmed. I wanted answers, but I wasn't given them. I was sure that my family was behind Sam's murder… and I wasn't the only one.

* * *

My family sat in the private room of the restaurant. We were silent. They didn't understand why we were waiting to order, but they weren't supposed to question the birthday girl.

My father was desperate to move the party along. "Well, let's make a toast." He shushed me when I tried to speak up. "Tina and Kurt will be fine if they miss this." When the door opened, he froze.

I weakly smiled as the Evans entered the room. "Welcome." I approach with caution and waved in the family's extra guests. "I'm glad you all came." I was shocked when Stevie pulled me in for a hug.

He held me close. Into my ear, he ordered me to leave the room. The skinny boy only received a confused look. He whispered, "Get out."

Malcolm pieced together the pieces quicker than I did. He stood and questioned, "Evans, you good?" He pushed back the end of his dinner jacket to show his gun attached to his side. He was ready for what was coming.

"We're good," Mrs. Evans promised. She removed a gun from behind her back. She lifted and aimed the weapon causing everyone to follow suit.

"Stop! We are not doing this." I ordered my family to relax. I rest my head on the woman's wrist. "Please, don't do this. I invited you to a PEACEFUL dinner. Sit."

None of the Evans' clan flinched.

"You are hurting. I am too. You want revenge, but Sam would not want this," I announced.

Mrs. Evans removed my hand. "I knew you were smart," she said, "but you're being really stupid right now." She ordered her son to take me.

I was dragged out of the room, begging for everything to stop- begging for everyone to think with a straight head. I was barely out of the restaurant when the gunfire began. With tears and loud cries, I sunk into Stevie. I was only feet away from the war, but I was useless to stop it.

How did a short love story ended with such a violent end? Would any the events had happened if I never crossed paths with Sam Evans? Did God punish me and Sam for our defiance? Was it written in the stars with zero chance of avoiding it?

Life isn't that way. Questions aren't answered. Not everything is to be understood.


	7. The Stranger

A stranger shows up at Mercedes' door claiming car trouble. She offers her phone to help him but soon learns that no good deed goes unpunished.

* * *

I held up one of many paper flowers. "Whitney, these are beautiful," I complimented my young daughter. I smiled as she looked up at me with her big brown eyes.

Whitney had high hopes of working in the garden, but her dreams were crushed by the heavy rain. I substituted her plans with the idea of an indoor garden. She could do her arts and crafts, and I'd get a little work done.

"Do you know what happens when it rains?"

The six year old lit up. "Puddles!" she cheered.

"No, our flowers grow." I straighten when I hear the doorbell ring. I ordered Whitney to stay put, and I turned on cartoons to be sure. I cracked the front door to look out.

A tall man stood outside, drenched from the rain. "Hi, I don't mean to bother you, but you were the only house with lights on. I'm have car troubles. Can I use your phone?" he asked. He studied me as I pucker my lips in hesitation. "I don't have to come in. I'll stay right here, and you can hand me the phone and close the door."

I closed the door before rushing to get the phone. When I returned, I mumbled, "Here." I take in the man's smile as he thanked me.

"The one day I forget my cell phone." He began to dial a number. After being asked if he was from around, he spun a quick story about being from the other side of town. He looked behind me as the lights began to flicker before turning off.

I groan at the power outage. I listened to the silence; Whitney was okay. I take the useless phone from the man. "What are you going to do now?"

He shrugged. "I'll go back and wait the storm out. Thank you for your help."

I called after him as he started to walk off. I couldn't let him walk through the rain and sit in a cold car. "You can come inside. You can wait here for the rain to lighten up, or my husband can help you. He'll be home soon." I easily find a flashlight and lead the man to the dining room. "I'm Mercedes."

He took a seat as I began to light the candles on the table. "Sam." He looked around the room and stopped when he noticed the tiny face peeking at us. He introduced himself to my daughter as she stepped forward. In the middle of their conversation, he asked, "Are you scared of the dark?"

She posed with her hands on her hips. "No, I'm brave."

Sam laughed at the little girl. "That's good. People are more scary anyway."

After lighting the last candle, I passed the flashlight to Whitney. "Go play," I ordered.

She had exactly what she wanted. She waved before leaving. In the living room, she made shadow animals on the roof. She was happy and quiet.

I watch as Sam pushed his damp blond hair back. "Let me get you something dry." I go to the folded laundry in the corner and take a towel and one of my husband's shirts.

He dried his face before placing his jacket on the back of his chair. He moved into the darkness to change shirts, but when he wanted to speak, he stepped forward. "You thought I was your husband at the door?"

I watched his toned upper body glistening under the light, but I had to warn myself not to stare. After turning my gaze, I admit, "Yeah, he'll be home soon."

"You told me that." Sam returned to his seat. "What does he do?"

"He's a musician." When I was asked about my job, I explained my life as a stay at home mom.

"You're daughter is beautiful. Is she your only child?"

"Yes, but she's a handful." I sit across from him. "Do you have kids?"

"No, It's just me now. My wife passed away, um, recently."

Sam and I continued to chat. We talked about our lives, hobbies, and entertainment. Talking was easy. We didn't think of the rain that was pouring outside. Before either of us knew it, hours had passed.

"I have to put my daughter to bed. Can you stay here?" I got a nod from the man and left. After tucking her in, I warned, "You can keep the flashlight, but don't stay up all night playing with it." I watch her yawn and knew she wouldn't be up long.

Whitney fought back the covers and sat up before asking the million dollar question. "Where's Dad?"

"He'll be home tomorrow."

She pouted at my answer. "You said that yesterday. He was supposed to be here today."

"Tomorrow," I promised. Was I lying if I truly didn't know? I kissed her goodnight. I closed her door on my way out. Walking into the dinning room, I noticed that all the candles were blown out. "Sam?" I called.

"Here," he called from the living room. He put down the framed family picture before I entered the living room. "I hope that you don't mind that I moved in here." He pointed to the two candles that he had moved.

I waved him off. "It's fine." I strolled through the room and looked out the window.

Sam watched me as he sat on the couch. "Looking for your husband?"

I threw my hands up. I was tired of pretending. I felt silly. "He's not coming home," I finally admitted- more to myself. "He packs and leaves for a show as if he has no responsibilities, and I never know when he's coming home. I'm fine, but when you have a daughter that's asking about you every night, you should make some kind of effort."

After listening to my bitter rant, Sam said, "Yeah, your fine." He invited me to sit beside him. "When he leaves, is it alway music?"

I nodded as I sat. "He puts his music first, but Whitney's too special to be second."

"What about you? Any man that would leave a beautiful woman like you alone is crazy," he said. "Are you two close?"

I looked into Sam's green eyes and felt that I couldn't lie. "Not lately, but aren't couples supposed to drift apart a little after having kids?" I asked, earning a head shake. I just wanted my situation to feel normal. "Since our daughter was born, Tank's had a bad temper. I'd rather let him focus on work than argue."

"Argue? Has he ever hit you?"

I quickly answered, "No, he wouldn't dare. It's just… Some days, he's not the nicest person to be around. Once, right after Whitney was born, he-" I stopped after realizing how the man soaked in every word I said. "Why am I telling you this."

He chuckled along with me. "I tend to have that effect. People just want to know that someone will listen." His lips gained my attention as he licked them. "It's one of many things that I'm good at."

I noticed our closeness, and my heart skipped a beat. _God, please give me the strength_, I prayed. I hopped away and snatched the straps of paper off the table. "I should throw this away." I blindly rushed to the kitchen.

Sam followed me. "What happened?" He placed the candles on the island.

I tried to keep my distance, but Sam kept moving closer. "You're a nice guy, but I think I misread you."

He stopped in front of me. He shook his head and confessed, "You didn't misread." He reached for my hand. "Can I kiss you?"

"Um." I tired to think of all my reasons to say no, but my mind kept returning to him. "Um, yes."

His kiss was slow and warm. It felt magical. His lips gave me the feeling of being desired. It woke a part of me that had long been in hibernation.

I didn't just want the stranger. I needed to have him.

After being asked to my room, Sam challenged, "What about your daughter?"

"She's down for the night." I led him away. I put the light to the side and pulled Sam further into the room.

Sam closed and locked the door. After hours of stalking, he finally had his prey. He returned to my lips with a hungrily kiss and never broke away as he turned us. He trapped me between the door and his large frame. He move my hand over his crotch and announced, "You make me so hard without trying." He smirked when I mindlessly squeezed the bulge. "This is your chance to stop."

"No."

Sam pulled my sweater over my head. He began to peck and lick down my body until he was kneeling. He removed my pants and kissed my thigh before taking off my panties. He worked back up my body, following the same trail.

I stood frozen as he undressed himself. I watched him in the light. My eyes followed his strong arms to his broad shoulders. I openly studied his burly chest and abs. I caught sight of his thick and erect cock, and a deep moan escaped me.

He removed my last piece of cover: my bra. Sam returned for a kiss as his hands explored my body. He began to nibble at the side of my neck, distracting me with pleasure as his cock penetrated me.

I wrapped my arms around the blond as he began to thrust. In his ear, I encouraged him to go deeper and fastest. I felt my body tense from the excitement.

He left me breathless with each thrust. He had me and could take me anyway he wanted. Sam stopped. He slowly licked my parted lips then announcing, "I want you on the bed." In bed, he positioned me on my knees and rested my back against his chest. His hard member poked at my bottom. One of his hands massaged my breasts, and the other inched down my stomach. "You want to be fucked hard, huh? Do you want me to pound your tight pussy with my cock? You want to be filled?"

I nodded to his questions. I was out of breath but full of lust.

"Tell me. I want to hear you beg for it."

I found the energy to follow his command. Pleading with him, I repeated his every word and more. "Please, I need you."

"Why do you need me?"

"I need you," I repeated. Words fell from my mouth quicker than my brain could process them. "I need you because you make me feel more alive than my husband has. Please. Please."

He bent me forward, so my upper body was against the mattress. Giving me what I asked for, he thrust back into me. His movements were faster and more powerful. His claws dragged over my back before tangling in my hair. He gave the curly locks a tug as his hips rocked forward and back.

I was unraveling. I kept his name on my lips. I softly purred, "Sam… Sam, yes." I felt chills running through my body.

The sex changed from kinky and rough to concerningly painful. It happened so quickly. It was like a flip of a switch.

Sam's fingers slid from within my hair to the back of my neck. He squeezed and pushed down. He continued to pound into me.

"Sam," I called feeling uncomfortable. My face was shoved into the pillow. "This hurts." I was on the verge of tears. I tried to reach around for him, but he pinned my hand down. "Please, stop!"

He released me with a shove.

I was frozen with fear. I couldn't understand why that happened, but I knew that I had made a big mistake. I failed to pay attention to the man that was rummaging through every drawer. When I finally found my voice, it came out shaky "I-I think you should go." I turned, only to be straddled down.

The naked man was over me. With my husband's tie, he bound me to the poles of the headboard. He was unfazed by the struggle I put up. He remained silent as he redressed. He left the room and returned after a minute.

Through my tears, I asked Sam why.

Why would he do this? What was his plan?

He removed the knife from behind him back.

I cried louder. "Oh my God." I began to squirm for freedom.

He was confident that I wouldn't get loose. "Stop crying," he ordered.

I couldn't. I just did it silently.

Under his breath, Sam growled, "You're just like them. You're a cheater." He squeezed the knife in his hand. The man that I thought of as nice and charming had revealed himself as a crazed killer. "This is all his fault. This is all happening because of your husband."

Tank didn't care who he stepped on to get to the top. He wanted what he wanted. He screwed over a lot of people. He makes a bad decision, and I had to pay with my life?

"I'm sorry that he hurt you. Are you looking for money? I have a lot hidden here. I can pay you back, and you-"

"No!" he interrupted. "He took my wife… It's only fair that I take his, right? He needs to know how it feels." He took a phone out of his pocket. Sam played a video and watched my reaction.

The video was secretly recorded. It was clearly a couple in bed. As the video played on, I realized it was Tank with another woman: he was cheating. It was heartbreaking.

Sam loved my defeated look. He continued to play the video to rub my face in it. His finger accidentally slid to the next file in the folder.

The picture was only shown for a second, but it burned itself into my mind. The sight made me gag. It was a dead body: a woman hacked to death.

Sam had done that to his wife… and I was next.

I was willing to lie back, and let Sam have his way. I didn't care what happened to me, but I had one thing to live for. "Can you please think about my daughter? "

God knows what Whitney's life would be like if Tank had to raise her. Which family member or boarding school would he ship her to? Would she know that she's loved? Would he pick the best therapist to help her through the fact that Mommy was killed by the husband of Daddy's mistress?

"Does my daughter deserve this? Whitney is innocent." I wasn't crying for myself. I felt like I wasn't getting through to him, so I gave up. "Can we do this somewhere else? I don't want Whitney to be the one to find my body."

"Your husband-"

"I don't care. I hate him," I argued. "I just want my daughter to be happy."

"And that can only happen with you?" Sam ran his fingers through his hair and cursed under his breath. He was cracking. He leaned forward to rest his hand on the tie. "If I let you go, you have to do everything I say. I want to know how much you hate your husband."

* * *

Tank returned from his business trip two days later. He dropped his bags by the door. My husband hugged me, and I refused to return it. "Where's Whitney?"

"Your mother's," I answered. I wanted to waste no time setting the plan into action. "I got dinner. It's from Breadstix."

He bit his tongue and held in his comment about the takeout meal. He sat at the table, and I dropped the plate of lasagna in front of him.

I sat across from him and silently watched him take his first bite. "Do you remember what we did for our first date?" I gave him three guesses, and he wasted them all. I gave him a second question. "What's Whitney's favorite color?"

He coughed into his fist. He shrugged and guessed, "It's pink." He was wrong. "She a kid. She changes her mind everyday." He drank his water, hoping it would effect the tickle in his throat. "I just got home. Why are you asking me all these questions?" He was getting upset.

"Just eat your dinner." I was sure that I was doing the right thing.

Tank continued to eat. He continued to cough. He tried to walk away from the table, but collapsed to the floor as soon as he stood. He curled into the fetal position and held his stomach.

I had listened to the plan to frame Tank for the murder of Sam's wife, but that wasn't enough. I hated him more than that. I didn't want him on the same planet as me. I didn't want him to breath. I demand that Sam create a plan that I approved of.

Laced. Everything on Tank's plate had weed killer in it. It made up almost forty percent of his meal. The amount was large, and he unknowingly took the poison in by spoonfuls. It was going to work quickly on him; I was merciful.

I sat, listening to my husband moan in agony from his cramps. I only became concerned when he threw up. I stood to evaluate how much puke I would have to clean from my carpet. I passed him to get to the minute phone hidden in the kitchen.

Sam was pleased that I had followed through. "Now, destroy the phone. Call 911 only when the job is done."

I returned to check on Tank. I felt the blood slowly pumping through the veins in his neck.

He was still, but there was a little life in him. There was no way he could escape death.

"You're going to be put through a lot, but stick to the story that I taught you." Sam ordered.

I followed Sam's directions, and it paid off when Tank's death was ruled an accident. I never hunted for money or benefits as his widow; that's the downfall of many black widows. I continued my life happily with my daughter.

* * *

**Thanks for reading.**

**This story was inspired by the movie No Good Deed. The ending was an idea and written by the author Shon-Shon. She also left a bunch of prompts and tips, so I'm looking forward to more thrillers... but I got some happy stories coming too. lol.**


	8. Untouchable

Sam goes undercover with hopes to take down the notorious drug lord, Mercedes Jones.

* * *

I agreed to do it because I was selfish. I thought being a snitch for a few weeks beat years in jail for theft. I saw it as a way to get my charges dropped. I had nothing much to lose.

Detectives had their sights on one person, and they were going to use me to bring them down. They weren't going to do anything that would put me at risk, so no recording, but they had created a plan. When I agreed, the detectives arranged for me to be placed in a halfway house with a popular drug dealer.

Noah "Puck" Puckerman followed the rules of the house, but he couldn't stay away from the lifestyle that got him in trouble. He sold drugs on the side. When he brought the idea to me, he promised big money. He said that I had to meet someone before I could start selling.

Mercedes was beautiful and had plenty of smarts. She had the sweetest sounding voice that kept people from seeing the danger they were walking into. Something that she didn't have was fear. Zero shame. All that was wrapped in the little package that was the biggest drug lord in the state.

Following Puck into the pool hall, I squinted my eyes as they adjusted to the change in lightning. I saw her. I stood back and stayed quiet.

Mercedes was going to make a lasting impression. She passed in front of the pool table. She had a man right in front of her, but she talked to the man across the room. "Artie, how much does Tom owe me?" She silently nodded, taking in the large number that was thrown at her. She swung a tool in her hand, but as she got closer, it was easier to see that it was a hammer. She ordered the man across from her to put his hand on the table. "These are the same hands that took from me?"

Tom's hands were the only thing still about him. He shook in fear. "Mercedes, please." His begging did him no favors. When the hammer came down, he fell back, desperate to escape.

She knew what she was doing. She rounded the table to watch the man tremble at her feet. Her hammer swung over him like a pendulum. "You have two days to get me my money. Get a job, cross someone else, sell your ass- I don't care what you do. This hammer should be the least of your worries. We will find you."

He didn't move until he was dismissed by Mercedes. In a scramble, he rushed past me and Puck and out of the door. He didn't dare to look back.

Mercedes sat beside Artie. When she was ready for us, she signaled for us to join the table. "Got anything good for me, Puckerman?"

"That's a loaded question, Mama."

I answered every question Mercedes asked me. I was being myself, but I wasn't sure of all the mixed signals I was giving. I wanted to make her believe that I'd do anything she asked of me, but I didn't want her to think that I was afraid of her. I dropped a few jokes when the time seemed right.

"I like his confidence," Artie admitted.

She argued, "He's cocky."

They went back and forth as if I wasn't there. Artie thought I was worth a chance. Mercedes said no. They each had their own reasons to support their side. Minutes had passed before one had lightened up.

Artie was the closest worker to Mercedes. Because of his handicap, he wasn't on the street, but he was too smart for it anyway. He kept up with Mercedes' money. He knew better than she did sometimes. He knew who owed her how much and when was the money due. He knew that "a cheesy, unsuspecting, white guy," like me, would make money easily.

Mercedes decided on a test run. She disappeared from the table, and when she returned, she dropped a little bag in front of me. "I want to know how fast you can sell this." She pointed her finger at Puck, "If he screws up, I am coming for you." Before he could make a comeback, she shushed him.

I started with weed then grew to cocaine. I wasn't selling it. I gave the drugs to the detectives and got the money from them. I worked extremely hard to keep my secret from Puck and Mercedes.

Months into our deal, the detectives became more confident. They were closing in. They began to give me less money, and then they gave me none. They saw little reason to pay up, but they didn't know that they were toying with my life.

I was panicking; Artie knew I wasn't paying the full amount, but Mercedes knew when I stopped paying. When Puck noticed, I made up a story about being robbed by an unknown guy. I asked what should I do.

"Confess and say goodbye to your thumbs." He knew I couldn't do that. He went through a list of ways I could get the money before giving me the idea of seducing Mercedes. "It'll buy you some time."

"Would that really work?" I though Mercedes was too smart to be distracted by sex.

"It was just something me and her did, but I'm trying to help you,' he admitted. "You have three options. First choice, You tell Mercedes that you lost her money, and she breaks your hands. Two, you can do what I told you and get an extra week to get her money. Three, you do what I told you, and Mercedes cuts your dick off."

I didn't want to do Puck's plan at first. I was going to talk to her. I thought she would have been more understanding if I told her the robbery story. I was nervous when I got her alone at the bar.

She slammed the liquor bottle down and growled, "Wear a condom if you plan to fuck me over. If you got jumped then you must have been doing something stupid. I want the money you owe me… ALL OF IT." She sipped her drink as she had little interest in what I was saying to her. "Stay here."

I tensed in my seat as I watched her walk away. The last thing I wanted was for her to get the hammer. I chased after her. Catching her before she got to her office, I pull her close and held her tight. I go for her lips; they were soft. I could even taste the whiskey when my tongue entered her mouth.

When I was talking with Puck, I was given a list of rules- more like a list of things not to do. Don't do this. Don't do that. Don't kiss her too much: you're fucking, not making love. No foreplay because she thinks it's overrated. She likes it rough, but don't touch her hair. The biggest bummer to me was that I wasn't allowed to touch her boobs.

Although it was my least favorite rule, I was going to follow it. I turned her around, but her ass wasn't any less tempting. I rested her hand on the end of the pool table and yanked her leggings and panties to the floor. I was hard for her, and my dick twitched and throbbed at the thought of her. I took hold of her hips and pushed my member into her pussy. "God," I groaned.

She was warm and soft. Greedy to take me in, her walls stretch. Mercedes wanted sex just as bad as I did.

With each inch, I felt more and more pleasure. I began to thrust, fucking her nice and steady. In and out, in and out.

Mercedes was moaning within seconds. She filled the pool hall with her sounds of pleasure. "Deeper. Fill me with you cock." Her hips rocked to meet my thrusts. "Harder," she ordered.

I didn't need to be told twice. My grip on her became firm. My thrusts became wild and relentless. I looked down to watch Mercedes' ass bounce every time my pelvis crashed into her.

"Just like that. Sam, d-d-," she stuttered. She was filled with so much lust that she struggled with words. "Don't stop, Sam." Her cries flowed out of her, but my name did sound great when it fell from between her full lips.

"Say my name again."

"Earn it," she countered. Her breath hitched before she continued. "Make me scream your name."

As much as I hated to do so, I stepped back, letting my dick fall from Mercedes' warmth. I didn't want her to waste a breath to ask what was I doing. I worked quickly to free her ankles from her clothes. I lifted and placed her knee at the edge of the table. I reclaimed her, sure that the little change in position would allow me to give Mercedes what she wanted. I pounded her hard and fast. I was highly praised, and everything she did fueled me to continue.

Being with Mercedes was the most exciting thing I had ever done in my life. She wiped my mind of everything but her at that moment; I didn't think about what I owed her. She filled me with adrenaline and made my heart race. She could've been a drug herself.

She dropped her head and cursed under her breath. "Sam, I'm going-. Sam." She slapped her palm against the cloth table top. She squeezed my hand. She reached behind her and patted my torso. She wanted my attention. She wanted me to slow down, but I was lost in her. Climaxing, she called my name with a high pitched screech. "SAM!"

I stopped, allowing her to calm. My hands moved to wrap around her. I held the trembling woman until she had the strength to stand and push me away.

Mercedes was silent until she was redressed. She breathed and rested against the edge of the table. When I gave into temptation and stepped forward to steal another kiss from the beauty, she rejected me by saying, "You weren't that good." She took a minute to think of her offer. "Okay, I'll give you five extra days to get my money… And keep this to yourself. I don't want the other losers thinking they can do what they want and be forgiven if they can get into my pants."

I didn't need the five days.

Two days after Mercedes and I's hookup, the detectives raided the pool hall. They had spent months preparing and hoped for a big reward. They searched the building top to bottom. They found nothing- not a bag of weed, not a gram of cocaine, not an unlabeled bottle of pills. They only had my word against Mercedes… and Mercedes was plotting to take that.

The next morning, I was actually jumped outside of the halfway house. I couldn't fight off all the men. I had a bag put over my head, and my hands were cuffed. I was taken. When the bag was taken off my head, I was in line with more of Mercedes' newer dealers. I was shushed from speaking and shoved to my knees. I felt the tightness of the cuffs holding my hands behind me.

Mercedes appeared. She stared down at the group as she spun the cylinder of her revolver. She took her time before speaking. "I had an interesting night," she said; that was as close as she came to announce the raid. "I don't think that any of you understand what it means to work for me. I own you."

Santana spoke up from the end of the line. "Mercedes, why the hell are we here?"

"I don't want you here. I'd rather have you on the street, making me money," she admitted. "Who ever was behind what happened last night, speak now, and everyone else can go."

I wasn't going to speak up. I was not ready to die.

Mercedes took in the silence. She stated to the front of the line. "Tell me now, or it'll get really messy. I'll start with the porcelain doll and finish with Latina Barbie." She placed the muzzle of the gun against Kurt's temple. Over his whimpers, she asked the group, "Is anyone going to confess?"

More silence.

CLICK!

Kurt whimpered harder, realizing he wasn't killed. He bowed his head and hoped for the end.

She wasn't done with her sadistic game. She moved to the next person in line. "This bullet will come out eventually… then we'll start again. I want answers!"

CLICK!

CLICK!

"I did it!" I admit. "I ratted you out."

"Okay," she said as she slowly nodded her head. She didn't question me, but took my word. As she returned to the table to trade her weapon, she whispered to Puck.

He was her loyal follower, ready to do what he was told. He moved to stand over me. By the back of my shirt, he dragged me across the floor. He didn't slow as he felt me crawling and struggling to keep up. He threw me against the foot of the bar with a thud.

I quickly say straight. I regretted that I was ever tied into this. My heart was beating against my rib cage. I could only take short puffs of air in. I watched on with big eyes.

Mercedes squatted in front of me. "I'm not going to kill you," she promised. She revealed her knife by bringing it inches away from my nose. "You're pretty, but not that pretty."

The blade cut into my skin, causing me to cry out. It slowly sliced from under my eye to my chin. When it was moved, my red blood ran from the pointed tip to Mercedes' hand.

"Tell the law," she ordered, "better luck next time." She stood, letting my blood drip on her floor. She called for Puck to free me of my cuffs. She threw a rag at me, and I pressed it to my aching cheek. "Get out, and don't ever let me see you again."

I was one of many who had to live with the fear of Mercedes Jones.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. I'm sure that you're tired of all the dark prompts. I want to do an apocalyptic two-shot, and then I'll give you all the happy shots I can think of- like puppies running freely through a field of flowers under a rainbow type of happy. This is what came to mind when I thought of the word "boss".**

**I did a boss prompt to push my new story Horrible Bosses.**


	9. Road Less Traveled pt1 (NS)

No smut: When a video leaks of superstar Mercedes Jones, she's exiled from her flashy and comfortable life to country backroads.

* * *

I used to admire celebrities. They were brave enough to follow their dreams. They threw themselves into their art. Regardless of how bad, they didn't let criticism hold them down.

I got a little older and realized that the people I pass everyday were admirable too. The people that had generations worth of knowledge and shared it with anyone they crossed. People that worked sun up to sun down to support their family. The ones that didn't mind looking out for their neighbor.

I became a published comic artist at the age of eighteen and an award winning one by twenty one. The first thing I did with the money I earned was take care of my family, and after that I still had plenty. I wanted to share my talents with the world, but I also wanted to give people something that was bigger than me. I started a meal center, feeding the hungry of my hometown. I liked helping people, and I was ready to teach Mercedes to do the same.

Mercedes Jones started her career as a child actress, and she explored music as she got older. It was uncommon to have never heard her name or seen her face. She was sitting on a golden throne until her world crashed.

A video leaked from the set of one of her music videos. It showed her yelling at staff, throwing things at her manager, and shoving over equipment. Her rampage lasted an hour and ended with her ending the shoot and leaving with her mom. The five minute video made thousands turn against her overnight.

She tried to continue with her career, but not many people would give her the chance. She was labeled a "difficult diva." Convinced by her mother, she believed that she could regain her popularity by showing her caring side. She became heavily involved with charities that only wanted checks. When that scheme didn't get her the notoriety she hoped for, she had to create a plan to help people directly. She was going to spend a summer volunteering, and out of all places, she chose my little Tennessee town.

My mom stood at the top step of the porch as she watched my dad's black truck coming up the road. She turned to my two younger siblings and warned, "I want you to be on your best behavior while she's here." Her eyebrows raised when the truck stopped and only my father got out. "Where's Mercedes?"

After reaching her, he kissed his wife. "On her phone. She's been on it since we left the airport… two hours ago." My father was a very sociable man, but for hours, he had to listen to Mercedes talk to somebody that wasn't sitting right beside her. He leaned against the post. "I don't understand what we've gotten ourselves into."

"We didn't do this," my sister, Stacy, corrected. "This is all Sam. He should have said no."

My brother rocked on his heel, pushing the swing back and forth. "Oh, come on. It's going to be great," Stevie smiled.

My brother and sister were meeting their childhood idol, but they had split opinions. Stacy didn't care to have Mercedes there. She thought the video showed her true colors. Stevie was welcoming. He strongly believed that the video was the Illuminati's attempt to bring Mercedes down.

"Stevie, did you clean your room? Sam's staying with you while Mercedes is here."

"He has a house." Stevie pointed at the house next door and looked at me. "Go home."

I was supposed to stay with my family while Mercedes was visiting. I wanted her to have her privacy, so I was letting her live in my house; she would be alone, but help was only feet away.

"They're both Sam's houses." My father knew I wouldn't be happy to hear him say that, but he had to stick it to his youngest son. "You're sharing his room."

"Why do you keep trying to send people into that room?" Stacy asked. "He's had my laptop for two weeks because I'm not going in there. The smell is the only thing keeping roaches away."

When I stopped laughing, I decided, "I'll sleep on the sofa." I would be fine.

Finally, what we've all been waiting for, Mercedes got out of the truck. She pushed her sunglasses higher on her nose and asked, "Why is it so bright?"

Physically, Mercedes wasn't what you'd first think of when you hear "actress." She was short with a thick and curvy frame. She had brown skin that shined under every light. Her natural full lips hid her white teeth. Her round nose sat under her pair of chocolate eyes.

"Because the air isn't polluted by smog," Stacy answered.

I stepped forward and introduced myself then my family. "I can help take your things inside. You're not working today, but I want to show you around the center."

* * *

For the first three weeks, Mercedes made it pretty clear that she was working a job. She was acting, but sadly, it wasn't one of her best performances. She smiled and took pictures when asked, but that was expected of a celebrity. She repeatedly stepped out of line to breath because the people "smelled weird." She vanished when it was time for clean up. She showed zero interest in knowing anyone until one random day.

Chad, a regular visitor to the kitchen, approached me. "Have you seen Flora? I can't find her." He was panicked, as a father should be.

I volunteered to help him. As we walked, I tried to calm him. I had a solid idea of where the little girl could have been.

We had built a playroom at the center. It was small, but it made the kids happy. What child could resist toys and bright colors?

Flora was right where I guessed, but I didn't suspect that she would be with Mercedes. The seven year old scribbled outside of the lines of her coloring sheet as she chatted with the woman beside her. She made childish jokes, making them both laugh.

Silently, I watched Mercedes. I smiled knowing that she had a weak spot for kids. After calling for the child, I got both of their attention.

Flora pouted, knowing that the good times were over. She looked up with hope in her eyes and asked Mercedes, "Will you be here tomorrow?" After getting a nod, she cheered. She hopped out of her seat and waved goodbye. Her little hand slid into her father's before they walked away.

"Flora's a great kid," I announced.

"She's smart." Mercedes kept busy by collecting the crayons on the desk. "At her age, I was still struggling to remember my lines."

I didn't want to dig into her past if she didn't want to. I scanned over the other kids in the rooms. "You can stay here if you want." Why would I remove Mercedes from a position where she thrived to put her back in the kitchen?

* * *

Days passed, and the center became busier. We were desperate for more hands. It wasn't uncommon to ask people who weren't scheduled to help.

"Mercedes!" I called as I entered the house. I searched the front of the house and waited for her to appear. "Mercedes, where are you? Are you here?" I finally found her in my room.

On a Friday afternoon, Mercedes Jones was… sleeping.

Tapping my knuckles against the door, I called for her. I dared myself to enter. The closer I got to her, the quieter I said her name- I don't know why I did that. I stood and stared down at her.

She was relaxed and at peace. She rested on her back with her arms stretched out and one knee bent higher than the other. To beat the southern heat, she had kicked most of the covers to the side. Her tank top and boy short showed off a lot of her beautiful skin, and I was hypnotized for a moment.

I slowly sat at the edge of the bed. "Mercy," I whispered; the first I had called her by that name, but it rolled off the tongue so easily. I reached out to her shoulder, and with a touch, I was put back in a trance.

Her skin was as smooth as flower petals. She was plump, but felt so delicate that if you rubbed her in the wrong direction or too rough, then she would have shattered like glass. There was plenty of it to explore.

I moved along her arm, and my fingers caressed her. When I reached the end, I lifted her hand, and it fell to fit mine. I carefully placed her hand back on the bed. I didn't stop there. I didn't hear the voice in my head that warned me that my behavior would put me in jail. I was lost in her. Next, I rested on her shin that relaxed at my side. As I brushed over her layer, I felt her stumble that had regrown from her last shave. Tempted to go further, I rounded her bent knee and settled on her warm thigh. My thumb massaged circles into her soft flesh. I was pushing the limit.

Mercedes let out a low grunt. She was waking. With her eyes squeezed tight, she began to squirm away from the light coming through the window.

I didn't want to move too fast and scare her, but the last thing I wanted was to be caught red handed. My moves were gradual. I scooted backwards and dropped my nervous hands in my lap. My heart raced as I watched her long eyelashes begin to flutter.

When her eyes adjusted, she had a clear view of me sitting in front of her. She grabbed the sheets and covered her body. She watched me with eyes the size of saucers, and I was hurt to see the shock I had caused. "Sam?" she mumbled which translated to "say something or get out." The silence was very uncomfortable for her.

"Um, I-I… Um," I stuttered. Within the minute that I was in the room, I had forgotten what I wanted to ask. I had mentally scorned myself and recommended that I get off the bed. With a little space between me and Mercedes, my memory made a full recovery. "I know you served lunch earlier, and you're supposed to enjoy your night. I came here to ask if you would help out for dinner."

"Is it optional?"

"Yes."

"No," she bluntly answered. She threw the bed covers over her head. She wasn't willing to talk it out or negotiate.

I deeply exhaled. "Okay." I left my house guest alone. I felt awful for what I did, and my brain didn't do me any favors.

The memory of Mercedes half naked in my bed kept me distracted at work.

The thought of Mercedes fully naked in my bed kept me up all night.

* * *

I avoided Mercedes for a few days, but eventually, I had to get into my office. I was on edge, knowing that she was only a few feet away. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I noticed her in the doorway. "I hope you don't mind that I came in. I'm meeting with my publisher tomorrow, but I have a lot to catch up on."

"It's your house." As she strolled into the room, she said, "I was a little curious about what was behind this door." She stopped and studied the storyboard I had pinned up.

"What do you think?" I asked.

With her back turned, she mumbled, "You're no Jack Kirby."

I chuckled at her comment. I was amazed to learn that she knew anything about comics. I didn't start a conversation about that because she would have brushed me off. "I saw that your Instagram followers went up."

She turned and crossed her arms over her chest. "They follow me so they're the first to say mean things in my comments." She took a deep breath as she sunk into the sofa in the corner. She wanted to tell her story, and I lent an ear. "They just don't understand."

The war between Mercedes and her manager, Martin, had been building for years, but the photo shoot was the final straw. Martin aimed to move her far away from the "child actor" tag by making everyone notice that she was a woman. She had to be sexy: higher hems, more cleavage, and certain poses. She rarely agreed with him and had to fight for herself because no one else would. She peacefully protested, and the infamous video was the result of when Mercedes was fed up.

What Mercedes told me was the skeleton of the story: the main point. She left off the meat and skin: any details that could make someone feel for her. She didn't want anyone to know what she felt about fighting alone. She didn't want to tell how hurt she was that all her years of work on the screen was nearly demolished by a five minute phone video. She said that she didn't want the pity, but the look in her eyes showed her pain.

I didn't need her to tell me everything because I saw it in her- I saw her. "I see you," I said, earning a confused look from the starlet. "You have walls up to hide your feelings, but I see you, Mercedes."

She laughed as if I had told a joke. "Nothing to see. I say what I think." In the silence, she began to run though her schedule for the next day. She had to get to bed at a decent time because she was put in the group who was responsible for preparing lunch. "I'm taking a shower," she admitted, "in case you want to sneak in and watch."

I cringed at her statement. "I'm sorry for the other day. I don't even know what I was thinking." I felt awful for what I did, especially after I knew what happened with her manager. I didn't want her to think that I saw her as just a piece of meat. "I was being stupid and…" I began to rant, and she hated nothing more than having to listen.

She lifted her hand to silence me. "I forgive you." She watched as I straightened in my seat; a hundred pound weight had been lifted off my shoulders. "Goodnight, Sam."

* * *

After a brutal meeting with my publisher, I returned home. I had a lot of changes to make to my comic and wanted to spend the day making them, but plans change all the time. I was on my way to my office, but was again distracted by Mercedes. I leaned against the door into my room and admired her. "You look beautiful in red."

Continuing to apply her makeup, she mumbled, "Thank you." Her red lipstick matched her dress that fitted her upper body and flared and flowed at her hips. Her black hair was curled to stop above her shoulders.

Although she looked breathtaking, it was too fancy for a casual night in town.

"Is there a big celebrity party tonight?"

She turned and took the gold necklace off the dresser. "I'm sure there is." She proceeded to namedrop every celeb that was partying in Nashville. "But I had different plans. I was invited to the mid-weekly service at the church. I can reconnect with God and one-up your brother. He thinks I can't walk into a church because I sold my soul to Satan." She made a face, trying to understand; sometimes there's no understanding of Stevie.

I was dressed nicely. I wanted to spend time with Mercedes. I volunteered to go with her.

Mercedes wasn't shy to ask to drive. She was happy to debunk the idea that every celebrity rode in flashy cars with drivers. She held her hand out as I thought.

I decided to let her drive. The church was only a few turns away. She had her license. I had insurance for a reason.

* * *

Like Mercedes, I hadn't been to church since I was a kid. It took me a while to get into the sermon, and a little while in, I got back out. When I asked about the time, I was told by Mercedes that I should "grow a church cushion"- which didn't even make sense. I was excited for the end because I wanted to take Mercedes to my favorite place.

The best spot in town used to be a drive-in theater that both of my parents used to visit as kids, and when they had their own family, they would bring us to the abandoned lot and shoot Fourth of July fireworks. It was really peaceful and quiet at night. The trees and grass began to reclaim the land, but the view of the sky was still great.

"Sam, we have stars in California," Mercedes disclosed.

I continued to slouch over my steering wheel. "But they don't shine like this, do they?" I countered. "I like to come here and think."

She laughed. "About what? Which girl you were going to the prom with?" Resting her head on the window, she asked, "How many girls have you brought out here?"

"Just you."

"No girlfriend?"

"I've only had one serious relationship. I was running away from her to come here," I admitted. "Three years ago, my fiancée left me at the altar. It was amazing how incompatible we were. We dated in high school and were still together years later. Marriage felt like it was the next step. We were wrong, and good thing one of us realized it."

"Is that why you put so much time into the center… Because you don't want to put it in another relationship?"

I straightened and turned to her. "You're firing off those questions pretty quick," I joked.

"I just want to know your story."

"My story isn't that long, but the people that come to the center-" I paused in remembrance. "They have so much to say, and I want to hear it." I took nearly an hour to tell Mercedes some of the stories I heard.

Mercedes sat back and took in everything I said. "Wow, you must have learned a lot from them. Is that why you're so good at reading people?" she softly asked. She let the silence resettle before speaking back up. "What did you mean yesterday? When you said that you saw me, what did you see?" She watched me with her big brown eyes, desperate to hear the truth.

I saw deeper than her pretty face, hips and sass. I saw innocent eyes that hid crushed dreams behind them. Her smarts and open mind was my favorite thing about her, and my second was her big heart that was made for loving. I could see that she was struggling to stay strong, but I couldn't tell who for- it wasn't for herself. I saw that her beauty and true colors were all enclosed in a glass box of fear and pain- a box that cracked every time she came out of the playroom at the center or criticized my comic. I didn't notice all that at first, but I watched her layers peel slowly.

I took her hand and said, "If you could see what I see, you'd understand how special you are. You'd understand why I like this Mercedes more than the one I met at the beginning of summer."

Mercedes scooted forward and hugged me. Her chin rested on my shoulder and her hair petted my cheek. She had heard what she wanted and more.

I eagerly returned her hug, holding her tightly. I took a long whiff of her flowery scent. With a long exhale, I whispered, "I love you, Mercy." Maybe I was crazy for saying something like that after knowing her just six weeks, but it was what I felt. I didn't hear Mercedes say the three words back. I was just glad that she didn't pull away.

* * *

For the few days after, Mercedes walked on clouds. She skipped around the center, chatting up everyone. She joked with my family. She even had the patience to listen to Stevie's crazy conspiracy theories. Every day she wore her smile, bright and pure.

I strolled across the yard to my house. I smiled when I saw Mercedes sitting outside. I stopped in front of her and got no attention. "Hey Mercy."

She looked up from her journal with raised eyebrows. "Oh, Sam," she said as if she was expecting to find someone else. "Hi."

I squatted to sit beside her on the steps. I watched as she lowered her head and returned to her writing. "The only woman ever that disappointed to see me was Stacy," I joked.

"It's not that," she laughs. "It's just been awhile since I was called Mercy. My dad used to call me that when I was a kid… I'm just Mercedes now."

I realized that I had called her that to her face. I apologized. I used the little information I had learned to continue talking to her. "How's your dad?"

While her mother was a stage parent, Mercedes' father was a dentist. He stayed behind to raise her two older brothers. He didn't travel. Because of his daughter's busy film schedules, he hardly got time with her. When they could find a chance to be together, they were inseparable. When he passed away, her little world shook.

She was only eleven when she lost him. "I realized that no amount of tears was going to bring him back. I wanted to take a break from working, but for a while, it was the only thing holding me together. I left a week after his funeral," she confessed. She grinned, and the joy returned to her eyes. "Two years of bad movies. Oh, they were awful."

"I liked them," I admitted and received a horrified look from the woman beside me. "But I was ten. What did I know? I thought Star Wars was stupid."

She gasped. "The disrespect." When our laughter quieted, she challenged, "As a grown man, you'd never be able to watch all seven movies. I'll give you twenty dollars for each of those movies you finish."

"Keep your money. Let's watch them together- make it a date."

"If it's a date, I want to see something better."

"A date?" I didn't mean a date-date, but I was glad that she said what she did. I just wanted to spend time with her.

Like the night in the truck, she slid closer to me. She was close, and I braced myself for her hug. She kissed me.

There was an undeniable spark between us. It felt so magical that I didn't realize that the kiss was probably only three seconds.

All I wanted was for her to stay. I smirked, but it was killed by the look of panic on Mercedes' face. "What's wrong?" I didn't get an answer, but I followed her gaze over my shoulder. I watched my father's truck drive up the road; my father was no one for Mercedes to fear. I turned back, but Mercedes was already inside.

If Mercedes had time, she would have barricaded the door. "It's my mom. You have to send her away. Tell her I left," she ordered.

"I'm sure that she's already seen you." While she hid in the bedroom, I answered the door. I smiled and greeted the guest.

Mrs. Jones didn't want to waste time. "I'm here for Mercedes." She accepted my invitation to come inside, but she was determined to see her daughter.

"Get comfortable," I smiled. "I'll check around for her."

Mercedes stomped around the room as she threw her things into her bag. "She always does this," she growled when I closed the door. "She has a sixth sense that tells her when I find happiness, and then she drags me away from it… literally."

I reached for her hand to stop her; she was making me a little dizzy with her back and forth. "There's a few weeks left of Summer, and you're welcome to stay longer if you want." I suggested, "Tell her that you don't want to go."

"It wouldn't matter."

I was watching her sadness and hurt rise to the surface. I asked, "What makes you happy here?" I needed to know.

She took her time to answer. "The center, your family, but most you."

If I could have, I would have brought it all to wherever she was going, but I could only give myself. "I'm just a call away," I promised. "If you call in the middle of the night and want to talk until the sun comes out, I will."

Mercedes nodded, understanding. She nervously offered, "If I buy you a plain ticket to LA, would you stay a few days."

I smiled and looked into her eyes. "I just needed an invitation. I can buy my own ticket." I was excited to think that I was going to have more time with Mercedes.


	10. Road Less Traveled pt2

Continuation of Chap 9

* * *

I rested on my back, taking deep breaths as an attempt to stay calm. I tried to milk every second I had left with Mercedes. I lifted my hand behind my head and looked down to watch her worship my cock.

Moving her head down my shaft, she covers it with sucking kisses. She moaned quietly when she finally engulfs the tip of my hardening cock in her warm mouth. Her lips sunk down my cock before bobbing back up.

I reached down to move her hair that blocked my view, and her beautiful eyes looked up at me. Looking into her eyes, I felt the most overwelded. I tangled my fingers in her hair. I dropped my head back as she allowed me deeper and deeper into her tight throat. I groaned, "God, Mercy." I never wanted it to stop, but God was listening that day.

Mercedes pulled away when her cellphone rang. "I have to get it," she swore, climbing out of bed.

Mercedes and I have been dating for nearly a year and a half. We talked every night. I flew to whatever city she was in when she was free. We made the long distance relationship work, and we were happy.

She rejoined me when she finished her call. "I have rehearsals soon, and you have a flight to catch," she announced, knowing our time had come to an end.

* * *

I had promised Mercedes that I would watch the American Music Awards because she was hosting. I liked a few performances, I cheered for a few awards, but I was glued to my seat when the host was on screen.

My mom sat beside me. Instead of watching the TV, she watched the door. "It's five 'til. Where is Stacy?" she grumbled.

It was the Sunday after Homecoming, and kids partied all weekend. Most didn't have curfews, but the Evans kids did.

She gave the screen no attention unless I asked her to. She eyeballed Mercedes when she was giving out the last award for the night. Being unfiltered, she said, "Mercedes looks a little more chubby." She studied the face that had grown rounder since she had last seen it in person.

My dad nodded in agreement, but tried to explain it away. "A camera adds 10 pounds." He managed to look up often while he filled out some forms for the center. When the door opened behind him, he didn't bother to turn. He was so sure it was his daughter. "Hey sweetheart."

"Hey honey," Stevie sarcastic said. He was home earlier than any of us could believe. He stood with his arms folded. He wanted one of us to ask what was wrong. "Georgia left me for Blake Davidson."

Was she the reason he asked for his own truck for his senior year? She broke up with my brother for a kid with a ride?

Stevie didn't believe in waiting for karma. "It's going to be hard to enjoy the ride home. I took his spark plug." He could be lowdown, and sometimes I was proud.

Mercedes returned to the screen and stole everyone's attention. "Congratulations to all the winners tonight." Mercedes had convinced the award planners to cancel the closing performance and give her a chance to speak. "People would ask me how I made my music. I would tell them that writing was like a river. You step into it, and the waves will take you away from every heartache and trouble of reality. That goes for every art."

Stacy stomped into the house and slammed the door. "Happy now?" she asked with an attitude.

"No, I'm not," my mom answered with the same sass. She stood, and I had to peek around her to see the TV. "You have one minute to go back out that door and come in it with a better attitude."

"When I told my friends that I had to get home before my curfew, they laughed in my face. Ma, no one has curfews any more."

"If they were your friends, then they wouldn't have laughed at you," she warned Stacy. "I was being lenient. It's a school night. I didn't have to let you-"

I couldn't hear Mercedes over their argument. "Mom, please. I want to see this," I asked, but she was too wrapped up with her daughters to hear my plea.

Stacy raged, "Stevie doesn't even have a curfew." She watched our mother's lips part and knew exactly what was going to come out. "And don't say it's because he's older! You all treat him differently because he's a boy. If-"

"Hey!" My voice boomed and silenced the room. I pulled my mom down to sit beside me. "_I should have watched this at home,_" I thought. I focused on the last seconds of Mercedes' speech.

"I've been in front of cameras since I was in diapers. I'm thankful for the opportunities and following from everyone. I'm taking a hiatus because I want to know who I am without makeup and fancy dresses. I want to know what's beyond the lights. When I return, I will have a better view of life; a better view on the music I put out to represent me and you." She paused as the crowd cheered. "Thank you. Have a wonderful night."

* * *

Mercedes spent the next two week handling her businesses. She was making good on the contracts she had signed, and the ones she couldn't fulfill, she bought her way out of. She was hopping between cities to avoid being caught by her mother; half a day in LA, another half in New York, and two days in Atlanta. She gave a few interviews that came out after she had left the city. When she finally got to Tennessee, she was exhausted.

When she was well rested, I wanted her all to myself.

Stevie and Stacy rolled their eyes when they caught me and Mercedes on the couch with our lips smooched together; it happened more than once. They would groan, "Do you two breath through your ears?" or "Do that at your house." They would shake their heads as we parted and look at them like teenagers who were caught by their parents.

My dad sent them off. "Go upstairs and do your homework." He fell back into his chair and studied us.

It took Mercedes a while to get the silent message that my father wanted to talk to me alone. "I'm going to help your mom with dinner." She gave my hand a squeeze before leaving.

"Mercedes is a good one," he announced. "How do you feel about her?"

"She's amazing. I w-"

He interrupted me. "Sam, that's not what I asked. Mercedes gave up her career for you, so she feels something." He knew me as his son, but he had to learn who I was as a man. "Sex and money aside, are you serious about her."

I loved Mercedes. I had told her plenty of times. I would tell my dad and anyone that asked. I was in deep and didn't want to be rescued.

* * *

If I woke before Mercedes, I would lose hours just watching her. I would listen to her soft snores and think they were the cutest sounds. I studied her resting face and never saw an imperfection.

When she finally woke, she pulled the covers over her face. "Every time, Sam," she groaned.

I laughed, "Yes, every time because you're beautiful." I pulled the cover dawn and stole a kiss. "The center has more than enough volunteers, so another day just for us."

Although she had hopes of getting to the center, she smiled. "I want to spend our day right here." She pulled me into a hot and passionate kiss.

While we were wrapped in each other's arms, two mothers were being ignored at my front door. Mercedes' and my mom knocked for minutes. They got into the house using the emergency key.

Mercedes' mother crashed into my bedroom, causing us to jump. "Mercedes, get your ass out of this bed."

My mom was more scared of what she thought she had walked in on. She hurried to pull Mrs. Jones out of the room. She slammed the door behind her.

When we joined them in the living room, Ms. Jones snatched her daughter to the side. "You didn't think that I'd found you?" she asked, only to receive silence. She pointed at me. "You're throwing your career away for this. All of it is gone."

"No, Momma." In a matter of seconds, Mercedes had turned into a child. She was embarrassed. "I didn't throw it away. I- I just- I need a break."

"Break?" The mother laughed at the word. "You need a break? Where was my break when I was driving you to every acting class and voice lesson? Where was my break when I was getting three hours of sleep because I had to get you to set before you four AM call time? I gave up all my time to give you what you had. I did. Not your dad. Not this white boy you're shacking up with."

"I'm thankful for that, but-"

"How long is this break supposed to last?"

"I don't know." She shrugged and took a guess. "Ten years."

"How the hell do you think you can make a comeback at thirty seven? You'd be on the brink of fourth, and we've talked about how hard it is to get a number one hit after that point."

I stepped forward. I had to stand up for Mercedes. "I think you're underestimating her. She's tal-"

She snapped and pointed, silencing me. "I was talking to my daughter. You get between her legs and think you know everything, don't you?"

Mercedes was done putting on a show for the Evans. She grabbed her mother's hand and dragged her to the kitchen. In private, Mercedes was able to match her mother's attitude.

My mom and I peeked around the corner. We couldn't hear much because the two were whispering, but we saw a lot of hand movement. We were watching and waiting for them to work it out. We didn't want to get anymore involved, but there came the point of change.

Mrs. Jones wasn't happy with her daughter's back talk. She didn't have the patience for disrespect. Like any person, she had triggers and buttons, and Mercedes was playing her like a video game. Before she knew it, she had raised her hand and brought it down across Mercedes' cheek.

My mom sprung into action. Pulling Mercedes onto her shoulder, she yelled, "She is pregnant!" She cuddled her and looked at the woman in shame. "You don't hit your kids." She led the teary eyed girl to the back.

I watched as Mrs. Jones paced in a small circle. "I think you should leave."

Ten minutes later, I was alone in the living room, trying to understand the bomb that was dropped. "Pregnant?" I asked out loud. "Pregnant?"

"Yes, she's pregnant," my mom answered. She had finally come out of the bedroom. "Mercedes is sleeping. She's at the phase where she'll fall asleep as soon as she feels a solid surface."

"How do you know she's pregnant?" I couldn't stop saying the 'p'- word.

"I had three kids. I knew it when she walked through my door, but I had to ask," she smiled. "She's a sweet girl, and she's crazy about you. Sam, you're going to be a dad- you're going to be a great dad." She had to get home to her other kids.

* * *

I wanted to let Mercedes sleep, so I focused on my comic; I had a meeting with my editor the next week, and I hadn't worked on any of her notes. With the doors opened, I could see Mercedes' feet from across the hall. I wanted to talk to her as soon as she woke up.

She entered my office and leaned against the wall. When I smiled at her, she innocently looked at me. She hesitantly accepted my invitation to sit on the couch. "I wanted to tell you when the time was right."

I stopped her before she could apologize. "We're having a baby." I had to cheer. "How far are you? How did you find out?"

"I left the Emmys early because I felt so sick. People I was around joked about a pregnancy, but I knew then." She slouched, and her arms wrapped around her stomach. "The doctor said that I wouldn't know how far along I was without an ultrasound, but we talk about all of my options."

"Options for our baby?" I sounded harsher than I intended. I knew of only one option: she has the baby, and we raise it.

Mercedes took the same tone. "Our baby that's growing in my body. Our baby that I put my career on pause for. Our baby that will be raised on my income." She could buy and sell me ten times over, but she wasn't going to support the baby alone. She took a deep breath and tried to back away from an argument.

I smiled as I reached for the box that was hidden behind my back. I didn't get the chance to open it before I was turned down.

The proposal was what started an argument.

"I just want to do what's right, Mercy."

"You're doing what's right because it's the 1940s," she sarcastically said. "You have to marry the one you knocked up." She had made a bigger deal out of my marriage offer than most would feel was needed. She kept the fight going for a while, but when remembering that she didn't have the energy, she walked away.

"Are you really leaving?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, and I'm pretty good at it." From over her shoulder she yelled, "And don't follow me!" She continued down the hall and out the door.

* * *

I didn't sleep that night. I was hunting for Mercedes. I didn't want to believe the worst case scenario: she left the state, and I would never see her or my kid. After hours of stalking the outside of the only motel in town, I finally went in. I felt relieved to see Chad sitting behind the counter.

When asked if Mercedes was staying there, he said, "I can't tell you that. We have rules here."

I was a special case. "I know you've read what's been online about her."

Her mother leaked the news of the pregnancy as soon as she left my home. She had a devilish side that did it out of spite. From her heart, she did it to keep her daughter relevant.

"Rumors."

"No, it's the truth," I swore. "Father to father, please tell me if she's here."

He leaned in and waved me closer. In a whisper, he announced, "You're not worth my job." He straightened and shrugged. "I hope we're still cool."

I stomped out of the building without answers. I continued to call Mercedes on my ride home, but I got no answer. I had thought up a plan to lure her to my parents' home, but I was going to need my family. When I got into the house, I asked the first person I saw to call Mercedes.

"No," Stacy rejected. "If she isn't answering your calls, you must have done something."

I wasn't going to explain myself to a sixteen year old. "Mom!" I called for the only person I knew that would help me without judgement. I entered the kitchen and stopped dead in my tracks.

Mercedes had been with my family the whole time. She was filled with food and had her mind a little twisted by Stevie's horror movie marathon, but she was fine. She didn't tell my family why she needed space from me. She asked them not to tell me that she was there.

I said hi to my parents, but I was more interested in Mercedes. "Do you want to go for a ride?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Am I coming back?" she asked; horror movies were still on her mind.

"Of course." I took her hand and led her to my truck. I was reaching the end of our road when I noticed a grey car sitting across from the turn.

"Paparazzi," she warned. Pulling the hood of her coat over her head, she lowered. She advised me not to sit at the stop too long.

That was the first reporter before the swarm arrived. They stuck around for three weeks, studying my every move outside of my home. The interest died when they realized that their chocolate princess wasn't knocked up by a lowly educated hick from the backwoods- Mercedes was pregnant, but I wasn't what her mother promised.

I took Mercedes to our spot. We watched the sunset, and long after the stars started to shine, we were still silent. We had a lot of thinking to do.

She was the first to speak up. "You know that I would have never given up our kid," she said, continuing to look forward. "I have an appointment for the first ultrasound next Thursday. I know you would want to be there."

Silence returned for another ten minutes.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you when you tried to propose." She turned in her seat. "I don't want you to see me differently because of the baby. I felt that you asked me to marry you out of obligations."

I denied. "I want to marry you because of you. I would be lying if I said that I didn't think of proposing to you before this week." I bought her ring in June, and there we were in November.

She let out a long breath. "Sam, my life is confusing enough. I'm glad to have you, but I can't fit a marriage into my life."

I had to see her side. "One day," I hoped.

* * *

Years passed and kids were born before we were ready to marry. We wanted the ceremony to be small. We didn't need a lot of glamour. We wanted that day to be about us.

Mercedes peeked into my office to find me on the couch. "It's really late."

"I know," I huffed. I had been trying to break my habit of waiting until the very last minute to do things. Our wedding was three weeks away, and I was struggling to write my feelings down. "You're the love of my life, my best friend, and the mother of my two kids. I'm happy to marry you, but I can't write these vows."

"Do you remember the day we met?" she asked, earning a nod. She sat beside me and looked into my eyes. "It was the hottest, brightest day of my life. It was a sign that every day that followed was going to be great. I have never felt more beautiful and talented than when you call me perfect."

"You are," I quickly added.

"In three weeks, I will take you as my husband, and it will be another wonderful moment along our crazy journey."

"It wasn't difficult until we started to potty-train Matt," I joked making her laugh; I still loved her laugh. "Sometimes I watch just the smallest things you do and think I am the luckiest man alive. I'm thankful that you allowed me to see every part of you. I will love you until my last breath."

Mercedes looked at me with bright eyes like she did every time I complimented her. "It's not a secret that we love each other, but we say a lot of things that I would like to keep between just us," she admitted, and I agreed. "I think we should leave out our vows."

I breathed a sigh of relief and threw my pad to the side. I look at the clock that read 2:20. "Why are you up? Couldn't sleep without me beside you?"

"No, I got up to tell you it's your turn to give Joe his bottle. I'm going back to bed." From across the hall, she sang, "Good luck."

* * *

**I know that I've been gone for a while, but I can explain. I had my son. He's a little angel, but baby brain is a bitch. I couldn't speak a full sentence. Writing was out of question. I'm back now and would love to know what you think.**


	11. The Princess's Bodyguard

Sam was assigned to protect the king's daughter.

* * *

I stepped forward seeing the woman being led through the hall. To my fellow guard, I volunteer, "I can escort her. Her father wants to speak with her in the parlour."

Five years as their guard, and I was still learning the language of the first class. I liked how flashy the words sounded, but it was weird to have them come out of my mouth. I was from the southern region of my country, and we didn't call a room a "parlour," and "escorting" was a job that you'd prey your kids didn't join.

"There she is, my hero." Miles opened his arms for his sister to run into. "How did you get out?"

Princess Mercedes Jones was headstrong and had become infamous for sneaking out of the palace. She was just returning home from her two week long disappearing act. She only told three guards where she was going. She made them swear to never tell, and when she was ready to return home, they could look like heroes for finding her.

She smirked, "Just takes a little planning." Over a glass of whiskey, she gossiped about all she missed while outside. She loved her brother, and he was all that she missed.

King Jones marched into the room and was frustrated at the sight of his children. "Drinking this early in the day?" he noted, shaking his head.

"We're locked in with you," Miles countered. "You should be glad it's not a mountain of cocaine."

Mercedes' laughter was cut short by a glare. "Hello, Father." She stood and greeted the king the way she was taught. "You look quite dashing," she said with a tight smile. She returned to her seat and waited for her father to speak his business.

He glared down at the two populating the couch. "What do I always tell you?"

Miles and Mercedes were constantly criticized. Some points were reasonable like "sit straight" or "you're showing too much skin." Other times, they were just targets for their father's anger and had to take bullets like "you're a disappointment to me and your country."

He continued on with his point. "The crown is heavy, and I see that neither of you are ready to carry it. You are not responsible. Miles comes in after curfew, and Mercedes, you don't come home at all. Where have you been?" he asked as if she'd tell the truth.

"At peace."

At that point, I was asked to leave the room. I returned to my post and monitored the grounds. I would occasionally wander upstairs to check if the princess had snuck past me. I was only sure she was in her room when the door was cracked. I entered and closed the door behind me. "Welcome home," I finally greeted her.

"I won't be here for long. We have a benefit tonight, but I'm leaving tomorrow," she warned. "I believe that you're off duty. Can you pass the message on?"

"I wouldn't mind. I want you to get out safely."

I was hired to protect the royal family, but I was more cautious with the princess. I had accepted that protecting her might be the end of me. I kept her as close as she would let me: that was pretty close. I liked to think that I was so protective of her because she was the only woman in her family, but truthfully, it was deeper than that.

"How was your meeting with your father?"

If they had discussed something confidential, she would refuse to answer. "He wishes that Malcolm was here. We all do."

Malcolm was the oldest of the Jones children. He was the perfect son that was going to be a perfect king. He had the patience for the part. He was focused on his studies while his siblings got leniency. Sadly he passed away from sickness, and no one was prepared for the dramatic changes that followed.

"Thank you for checking on me, Mr. Evans, but you should be downstairs."

* * *

Mercedes was renting an apartment less than four miles away from her family. She allowed us to do our job and find every route there, but she refused to keep a guard with her. She didn't let us past the door until the night that she came home to every light in the apartment turned on.

I ordered her to squat by the door. Reaching for the gun at my side, I turned the safety off. "Come out slowly with your hands up," I directed the intruder. I inspect the living room.

The king was led out of the bedroom by two guards. He was done with his tour. "Mercedes, I knew you had an impeccable taste. Every room is beautifully decorated. You have to give it all up,"

"Hell no," she quickly argued. She was never afraid to stand toe to toe with her father, but that was the first time I had heard her curse. She asked how he knew where the apartment was.

"New GPSs were installed on the cars. We retraced you activities from yesterday." He repeated, "You're selling your appointment. There are too many windows and hiding places."

After minutes of arguing, they began to negotiate.

"I will keep my apartment and come home every weekend and weeknight there's an event."

The king shook his head. "Absolutely not. You get one weeknight so you can't go out and get into trouble. Guards-"

"This is my slice of a normal life. I can't have three or four guards watching my every move," she countered. She made her final offer. "Three weeknight. One bodyguard." She approved five guard that would rotate shifts; she chose ones that were the softest on her.

"No."

"Yes. It's settled," she declared. She volunteered me for that night. She kissed her father goodnight and showed him the door.

I explored the appointment for any threat. "Clear," I announced, giving full access. I leave to stand guard in the building's hallway. I was in front of the door and refused to let anything pass me.

After a minute, Mercedes peeked out at me. "You know it's not normal to be in the hall all night. You can protect me just fine from inside." She waved me in and locked the door. "I promise you that there's no danger. When we're here, I'm just Mercedes, and you're…" She paused, realizing that she didn't know my first name.

"Sam."

She echoed my name with a smile. "It's fitting." She flashed a take out menu and asked, "Well, Sam, are you hungry."

* * *

Mercedes treated the guards like roommates instead of her protectors, and we learned a lot about her. She liked burgers and tater tots- she loved tots. The princess that had a dress for every day of the year preferred jeans and leggings. When she wasn't under her father's watch, she would push the limits as far as we would allow her.

There was a nightclub that Mercedes liked. It opened once a week in a different location. It was exclusive to celebrities, billionaires, and royals on vacation. The rich were free to party, and all secrets would be left behind.

She wasn't happy that I wore my suit to the club; it was my uniform. "Leave the gun in the car," she ordered. "There's enough security inside." She led the way and didn't move slowly as she bee lined for her brother's section.

Miles was too distracted to give his sister any attention. He was wrapped in the arms of the man that was sucking on his lips. When he noticed me, he quickly split from him as if the space would make me unsee what I had seen. He could see the headline flashing: Gay Future King?

Mercedes waved off the worry. "No, he's cool." She pulled me to sit beside her. She began to pour a drink from the bottle that the others neglected, and I took a look at my surroundings.

The club was definitely different from what I had back home. The DJ kept the beats loud. There were enough flashing colored lights to give someone a seizure. The dance floor was crowded and looked like a dry humping orgy.

"Don't worry, have fun, and drink," she ordered. She fitted my fingers around a glass. "I'm going to dance."

I spent the rest of the night chasing after Mercedes. I found her on the floor and lost her at the bar. I found her at the bar, and god only knows where she went after that. I was worried about her, and for the first time, I realized how difficult my job could be. I finally got to take her home around two o'clock.

Even as she leaned on me, the intoxicated princess dragged. She gasped when she entered the apartment. "I'm home." Mercedes turned and wrapped her arms around my neck. She studied my face and professed, "You are so beautiful."

"Both of me?" I joked, earning a nod. I had my fair share of drunken nights, and knew Mercedes was going to pay the next morning. "Let's get you to bed." I rested her on her side and then brought in a chair from the dining table. I monitored her all night, and when the sun began to rise, I convinced myself that she was safe enough to be alone.

A moment later, Mercedes stumbled into the kitchen. "Where are my shoes." She loves all of her shoes, and even with a hangover, she feared losing a pair.

"I put them in the corner. You didn't let me take off your jacket," I explained to the girl still in her outfit from the night before. I had spent time preparing for when she woke up: closing the curtains, making breakfast, and getting aspirin.

"I have never drunk that much," she announced as she sunk into a seat. She took the medication and food. "Please say that I didn't say anything stupid like Miles does when he's drunk."

"No." I took the seat across the table.

When she was feeling well enough to hold a conversation, she started, "Tell me a story." It wasn't uncommon for her to use me to fill the silence. She got a good laugh out of my silly memories; I didn't mind sharing. She prompted, "Did you always want to work security?"

"I wanted to be a pirate. Cartoons made it seem like the perfect job: at sea with friends and no parents," I admitted. "If I could lift it, then I buried it. I used to draw maps for my parents to follow. My dad was so tired of me taking his work boots that he started to put them on a shelf that he thought I couldn't reach… I got a stool."

Maybe she was still too hungover to laugh. She never shared any of her childish stories. When I built up the courage to ask her why I was doing all the talking, she confessed, "I'm trying to figure you out. You seem so perfect. I want to know if you're able to make mistakes."

"A mistake could cost both of our lives. If something happened to you, then I wouldn't be able to live with myself." I meant every word, but saying it wasn't appropriate. "My job is to protect-" I quickly stood when the door opened.

Her father marched into the apartment. He ignored me at first. "Mercedes, where is your brother?" He was stern but got angrier as his daughter played coy.

Miles didn't come home that night. He had abandoned the traceable car in an empty parking lot. He stayed the night with his boyfriend, and that was where he would stay for three days.

The king glared at me. "Why aren't you at your post?" He sent me and his two guards out. He was alone with Mercedes and free to say whatever he wanted to.

With my ear against the door, I tried to hear what was going on. I knew how low he could go. Sadly, I couldn't hear anything.

"Attention!" Puck chuckled as I straightened and took position. He wasn't taking the moment as serious as the other guard that was intensely watching for the elevator doors to open. He leaned against the wall and promised, "You're not going to hear them. I swear they only whisper at each other."

Puck became a guard only a little while before me. He was a year older than me- the same age as Mercedes. He helped Mercedes escape the first time. He was the most lenient guard, so she kept him around more than anyone.

Puck bragged about never being caught away from his post. "He shows up at the same time. I come out five minutes before." He was pleasing Mercedes and the king.

The king always visited the appointment the morning after Mercedes' first night. He would arrive at eleven, and their meeting would last for ten to thirty minutes. His mission was to upset his daughter enough that she'd return home sooner than they agreed.

"I'm willing to bet my paycheck that she's going to cry in the shower." He argued, "Hell no, it's not normal, but who's going to stand up to a king?" He needed his job, but Mercedes needed someone to go easy on her. He never wanted to be another person that jumped down her throat about every move she made.

"Do you talk to her about it?"

"For awhile, and then she starts watching TV." He moved the conversation to a lighter subject. "Has she taken you to that club she likes? I would love to see you in a nightclub," teased Puck.

"I'm not that stiff."

Puck disagreed. In his head, he had painted a picture of me dancing offbeat. "I have to see it." He was close to falling over with laughter. "No place will top that one, but I will find one for our next break."

We stood in the hall talking for the rest of the time. We only quieted down when we thought the king was exiting the apartment. Thirty minutes felt like a fraction.

I was supposed to stay another day with Mercedes; the other guards were traveling with the king to meet more world leaders. I stood outside of the apartment until the coast was clear. I was warned, so I couldn't be surprised that Mercedes was locked in the bathroom. I knocked on the door, sure that I could be heard over the running water.

Thirty minutes was more than enough time to shower.

Mercedes didn't rush. She turned off the shower and still resisted coming out for another five minutes. She opened the door with her head hung low. Not expecting me to be standing so close, she nearly crashed into me. She whispered an apology. Clenching the top of her robe, she squeezed past me.

From that moment on, I made almost only wrong-headed decisions.

I followed her into her bedroom, but I kept my distance by staying near the entrance. "Are you okay?" I asked from across the room. Like always, I was ready to listen to anything she was willing to say.

She had a moment of pause. "My father, the first man God gave me, is the only person that can make me feel like I'm falling apart. I'm his only daughter. He is supposed to love me and protect from everything that you and the other bodyguards can't." She had a lot of emotions to unload. She spoke from her heart, and her pain flashed in her eyes. Finally finished, she breathed, "I just want to feel like I'm good enough for him."

"You are enough." I closed the gap between us and stopped right in front of her. "If your dad believes even a single thing he's said to you, then he's crazy."

She pouted, "but I'm not Malcolm."

"Because you're Mercedes," I argued. I took her face in my hands like my mom used to do with me. I needed her to listen- really listen. Looking into her brown eyes, I announced, "You're smart, genuine, and so beautiful. You are brave, and you do things that make me worry. No one is perfect, but you're amazing." Again, I was saying inappropriate things, but I refused to take it back or twist my words.

She smirked and her eyes brightened. "Thank you." She stared up at me as she thought through her next move. She leaned forward and longingly kissed me; her lips were sweet and warm. She kissed me lightly at first, then more passionately.

My hands moved to her sides and pulled her close to me. They were tickled by the plush threads of her robe, but I knew her skin would be just as soft. My fingers inched towards the robe's belt. They waited for permission to pass; I got access, but I had to catch up to her.

Soon I was in bed with Mercedes, and the only cover between us was my underwear. I was propped over her by my forearm. I let my other hand wander her curves before settling on her large breasts. Kissing along her neck, I could hear every breath that passed her lips.

"I want to know how it feels to make love."

I froze. I needed a moment before I could look at her. "What?" I asked as if she had switched languages.

Looking into my green eyes, she knew I heard her clearly. She wasn't going to shyly take back her words. She said what she meant but rephrased it. "I want you to make love to me."

That one sentence meant everything to me.

Mercedes wanted me. She thought of me to be more than just an employee. She trusted me enough to have a part of her that she could never have back.

I lowered the band of my shorts, and my cock was twitching from the excitement. I nudged her thighs further apart. After I returned to my position, my cock seemed drawn right to her entrance. Gradually, I inched deeper into her womanhood until I felt her body stiffen under me.

She didn't expect to feel so much pressure as her hymen was stretched and strained open for the first time. She explained, "It's a little uncomfortable." Although I offered, she declined stopping.

"Relax," I encouraged. I reclaimed her lips and whisked her to a place of so much passion that she neglected the ache. I moved forward, taking her virginity with the gentleness and sweetness that she'd craved. Once I was deep inside, I paused so we could revel in the feeling; her walls were closed around my member like a glove, hugging me tightly. Slowly I drew back my hips until I was nearly out of her and then gently slid back in.

Seconds later, she began to moan against my lips. She held me closer, her breasts rising against me. She wanted more regardless of her feeling that she didn't quite know what to do.

My hips worked and found a quicker rhythm. In the midst of passion, the thrust of my body could not be controlled. My veins were filled with the desire for that woman.

When I broke the kiss to taste more of her chocolate colored skin, cries of pleasure flowed from her lips as if they had been waiting to break free. "Oh, Sam." She spread her fingers of one hand over my back, and the other five drove through the dark blonde hairs in the back of my head. She overlooked all logic and rules, more desperate to feel raw passion. She whimpered and whined from under her bodyguard. "Please, please don't stop."

I groaned back with her. Continuing to take her sweetly, I slipped my hand between our bodies to tease her clit. I knew she needed something softer, an extra drop of pleasure. I began to focus on getting her to a climax. I wanted to watch her reaction more than I liked being the cause.

Her pleasure rose and coursed through her, tipping sweetly over the edge of orgasm. Her breaths left her quicker and from a deeper place. Her small hands scratched at me. Her body arched, and her short neck was more exposed as her chin lifted. Her lips locked in an open oval. Her only word was "oh."

I could hardly continue through her walls that squeezed tighter. I tried to last until her climax declined, but I felt my body growing tight and heavy. I pulled out of Mercedes with only a second to spare before my cock uncontrollably fired strings of my seed on her thighs. Exhausted, I rolled on to the bed next to her.

She studied the sticky mess that we both contributed to. She had a look of confusion and panic; growing up with private tutors, the subject of sex education wasn't a priority. It took her a silly moment to realize that we were both fine. She left the bed to clean herself off.

For the rest of the day, Mercedes and I were attached to each other. Our hearts were filled and lifted. We created a fantasy where we could love without hesitation, but the next morning, we were back to being a princess and her guard.

* * *

Miles followed me to his father's office. He was ready for a stand off and was defensive from the entrance. He had gotten all his father's messages and calls and was aware of the hunt for him. He only acknowledged his sister.

The king had been boiling since his son left. He pointed at me and blatantly ordered, "Leave." He glared at Miles from across the desk.

I didn't even take a single step towards the door. I could see that my services might've been needed. For the first time, I was seeing the king's rage towards his children with my own eyes. I was a fly on the wall that no one gave any attention to.

"Where have you been? I have spent countless hours looking for you."

"Yet you knew where I was." Miles didn't hide his sexuality from his father; it was their biggest point of conflict. "I'm sure you have directions."

"That boy is trying to ruin you," the king argued. "You will never take my place with him by your side."

Mercedes tried to turn the conversation back to business. She tapped her pen against her pad. "The charities are-"

Her father wanted her to stay silent and in her place. "Mercedes, I've warned you of interrupting me." He returned to his son. In anger, he clenched his teeth so tight that they could crack under the pressure.

Mercedes was shy to speak again. She began, "Can we please-"

"I'm talking!" he shot at his daughter, causing her to sink in her seat. "I wish Malcolm was still alive so I wouldn't have to put up with you two…" he had a list of words he wanted to put in that blank.

"But he isn't. You had us, but we're tired of you. We are done living under your thumb." Miles was expecting an immediate amen from his sister, but he got silence. "Right, Mercedes?"

She stood and pulled him further from the desk. In a whisper, she begged, "Please, Miles, think about what you're saying- what you're doing."

He nodded, seeing that her decision was made. "I'm not going to drag you out by your feet. I am leaving, and I hope you find happiness here." He patted her on the shoulder and turned. He was removing himself from that family and walking away from his royal title. He wanted a life where he could call the shots. Before closing the door behind him, Miles announced, "All hail to the queen."

Mercedes stared at the door, wishing her brother would walk back through. She was deaf to her name that was repeatedly called. She had to be physically turned for her attention to return to her father.

"Those charities…" He spoke like his son was never there. He knew Miles would have rejected them eventually; he just kept putting pressure on him and waiting. He had bigger ideas for his daughter, and when one of his plans walked in, he smiled. "Tank, welcome. I was expecting your parents to be at your side."

The man nodded in understanding. "They'll be here soon. I never miss the first flight out." He happily shook the king's hand. He tried to greet the girl with her gaze down, but she was dazed.

Mercedes was pulled out of her seat. Standing, she finally noticed the guest. "Hello." She smiled, and the show began.

Tank was a child of royalty; his country wasn't far from ours. He had so many siblings before him that he couldn't even fantasize about the crown. He didn't know it at first, but he was only brought in for Mercedes.

The king looked at me, and assumed that I came in with Tank. He released me to take a position outside and watched as I left. He spent that time encouraging the young adults to bond.

Mercedes pushed on with forced enthusiasm. When the meeting was over, she rushed to her brother's room to find it unpopulated. When I entered her room, she was sitting at her vanity, chin resting in her hand. She didn't have to open her eyes to know it was me. "He's gone."

I breathed, "Yeah."I saw him leaving with a bag. I closed the door and promised to be a listening ear.

She slowly exhaled and opened her eyes. "I'm scared to be alone," Mercedes admitted. She watched my reflection. "Please don't leave me… ever."

I promised her that I wouldn't. I couldn't leave her to suffer her father alone. I wanted to be someone she could confide in.

She turned her seat and tiredly smirked at me. "I'm glad that I have someone I can trust." She stood. As she approached me, her arms extended out: I wasn't sure if she was coming in for a hug or a kiss, but I couldn't let it happen.

I wasn't going to abandon her, but I couldn't give her the type of relationship she deserved. I took responsibility for what we did in her apartment. For my job, I should have controlled myself. I refused to let it happen again. I couldn't let her father know.

Mercedes was definitely hurt. "Mr. Do No Wrong," she called me. "You wouldn't want my father to know that you have feelings that have little to do with your job?" she challenged.

I couldn't think of an argument.

"My father used to tell me that I was more trouble than I was worth. He said that no man would want me for more than my body." She backed away from me. "Thank you for being the first to prove him right."

I was quick to object to that. "No, I care about you, and-"

"Just go away." Tottering towards her closet, she huffed, "I'm tired, but I have to dress for our dinner guest."

* * *

A month later, Mercedes and Tank announced their engagement. They sat in the garden and gave their first interview as a couple. They had created a relationship timeline that was longer than it really was. They smiled, laughed, and proved themselves as great actors.

When asked, Tank gave the date of their first meeting as the day he proposed. "We've spoken of marriage, but no moment felt better. We were surrounded by our parents when I got on one knee."

"Before he could ask, I said yes."

He laughed, "It would have been a disaster if I was just tying my shoelaces." He was asked about his brothers' opinions towards his fiance. "They understand my feelings towards Mercedes. It is always a joyful moment when our family expands."

"And Miles, what are his thoughts. Has he heard the news?" The interviewer asked, believing that their prince was volunteering in a poverty stricken country.

Mercedes' smile tightened. "Yes, He was the first person I told. He is happy for me," she lied. She hadn't heard a word from him since he left.

The interview was twenty minutes long, but before ending, the interviewer had to ask about the ring.

The ring was an oval lavender sapphire. It was rare and expensive. Purple was Mercedes's favorite color, and she always wanted a piece with that stone. Her engagement ring was her chance to have her childhood dream come true.

When their microphones were off, they excused themselves. They walked out of earshot, but I had a clear view. They talked and laughed. Were they genuine, or were they putting on because the camera was still spying on them?

I watched them and fought to control myself. When she stretched to kiss his cheek, I felt my leg twitch. I wanted to snatch them apart, but I didn't want to embarrass her. I took a calming breath and started towards them. I warned Mercedes of her plans and that she would be late if we didn't leave that minute.

She took Tank's hand; his skin the same tone as hers. "Will you come with me?" she asked and received a nod. As fast as I rushed her to the car, she didn't let him fall behind.

After I opened the car door, Tank stood across from me, letting Mercedes in first. He made eye contact, and could see something dark in me. He didn't know that it was my love for Mercedes turning into jealousy- borderline hatred- of him. Thankfully it was short, and he joined her in the car.

When Tank finally asked where they were going. Mercedes answered, "There's an orphanage not far. I like to visit when I can- every three weeks at most." The corners of her lips drooped as she studied Tank's still face. "I promise you that the kids are great, but if you don't-"

He stopped her. "No, I'm happy to go." He let her rave about the kids. "Have you thought about children of your own?"

"I've always wanted three children," she quickly answered. She wanted to be like her mother. "But one is a blessing."

I was in the passenger seat, too distracted by the two in the rearview mirror to notice the pothole that the driver was speeding over. Even with a concussion, I couldn't be positive. I wanted the driver to hit every pothole and speed bump. I wanted the ride to be as uncomfortable as possible.

* * *

Six months dragged by, and everyone was preparing for the royal wedding that was only two days away. Every move of that day was rehearsed until it was flawless. "The future queen deserved nothing but the best," workers would say.

I slowly entered the room, and my breath was stolen when I saw her in her wedding dress. I hesitated to close the door. I never felt so uncomfortable to be alone with her. Shyly, I complimented, "You look beautiful."

She smiled and joked about missing her tiara. She struggled to step around the yards of cloth that was her train. "How can I help you, Mr. Evans?" She was doing a great job at keeping our relationship professional- better than me.

I held out the velvet box and announced, "Your father asked me to give you this."

She opened the box and studied the diamond necklace. "I don't know if I should smile or cry," she said more to herself than me. She knew it would have taken a special occasion for her to get her mother's necklace, but she hoped it would have been her coronation.

I couldn't bite my tongue any longer. "Why are you marrying him?"

'Because we were told to' was not enough of an answer.

Mercedes nibbled at her bottom lip as she tried to justify why she was marrying a man that was still a stranger. "He's really nice, and our parents said that love will come."

Why should she have to wait to fall in love with him when I loved her at that minute?

I objected, "You don't have to-."

"I want to," she interrupted. She took a seat in the corner. She stared at the jewelry, her finger petting the velvet. She was finally starting to feel the weight of her actions, and all it took was someone to challenge her. Before I could leave her alone with her thoughts, she stopped me. Shakily, she asked, "Sam, when you used to bury things, do you think you ever forgot something?"

"You never forget."

To be the submissive wife, she had to bury all the best things about herself. She could put it as far down as she wanted, but it was only going to mold into anger. At heart she wasn't timid and quiet, and neither of us could see her act lasting forever.

"I can't think here," she huffed. She wanted to go for a drive with Puck- only Puck. She asked me to pass the message, but I should have known that something was up.

Again Puck helped her get away. He had disabled the GPS in the car and swept her away. Sure she was safe and happy, he had no guilt for what he did and continued to work. He was never questioned by the king, and he put up a fight to tell me where she was.

She had left an apologetic letter for Tank and left with only her mother's necklace. She was living on the country side under an alias. She wasn't worried about being found out. She was at peace among the locals.

* * *

**Thanks for reading.**

**When I start a one shot, I think its the best idea, but by the middle, my confidence is gone. I've started and restarted so many times, but thank you for being patient.**


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